


Where the Sky Meets the Earth

by heonniebread



Series: Monster Fuckers [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Blood, Ghouls, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Smut, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heonniebread/pseuds/heonniebread
Summary: Jaebeom doesn't know why he's waiting for Mark to leave.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Mark Tuan
Series: Monster Fuckers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019404
Comments: 36
Kudos: 94





	Where the Sky Meets the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> just to sure: there IS character death— NONE of the boys. there's some gorey and bloody stuff too. i've been working on this since last summer.

Tall, bare trees line the road, reaching gnarly branches towards each other, encasing the road and shutting out the moonlight. It’s impossible to see past the headlights. The way the light dips into the spaces between the trees seems like something chases them, following along the car and running through the forest. Jaebeom’s been in his current line of work long enough to know that’s entirely possible.

Truthfully, he’s running away right now.

All these wooded roads look the same after a while. Jaebeom doesn’t know if they’re in Montana yet; since they’ve been following this same, shadowy route through Idaho. They’ve been through roads darker than this in Maine, or when travelling through Tennessee. The radio turns to static out here, but Mark had already shut that off miles back, complaining that it hurt his ears. Now Mark lies in the cramped space of the backseat, and has been quiet for so long Jaebeom thinks he’s fallen asleep.

Except, he’s not. “We should be in Montana by now.”

The car hums as they cruise down the middle of nowhere. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“No. We need an updated map, by the way.” Mark says, unfolding the map. They lost cell service a while back, swiped some maps from a gas station while Jaebeom paid for gas with a stolen credit card.

Jaebeom passes by a deer grazing on the side of the road, a small family of them. He looks up at the sky but the moon isn’t visible through the trees. Jaebeom knows all its cycles by now, and can’t remember where they are in it.

“Are you hungry?” Mark mumbles, folding and unfolding the map. It sure doesn’t sound like he’s okay. It’s so dark in the car that it sounds like his voice comes from the pits of the backseat.

“Yeah.”

“Well, hold on. We’re only a few miles away from town, and we can eat.”

The truck continues on the road, Jaebeom driving with half his mind elsewhere. Anywhere else but his long, dark road. He drives with one hand resting on the bottom of the steering wheel, pulling and guiding as the road turns. It’s monotonous at this point. He doesn’t think about it, just stares forward. Just keeps moving with the road. The steady whirl of the engine isn’t helping, either, it makes Jaebeom sleepy.

Mark’s hand on his shoulder startles him, swerving the car onto the other side of the road. Jaebeom jerks the car back into their lane and Mark laughs, a high, happy sound that grounds him.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“I’m fine.” Jaebeom rubs at his face, rests his elbow against the door and uses his palm to support his head. He’s really not fine. He’s exhausted. They’ve been driving for four days, trying to get closer to home in Washington and shake off a tail, taking turns between driving and climbing in the too-small space of the backseat, for naps. It doesn’t even accommodate the width of his shoulders when he tries to lie on his back. This Toyota truck has been nothing but a gem since they stole it, aside from the gas it guzzles, and the lack of space in the backseat. In short: it hasn't shit out yet.

Mark manages to climb over to the front bunk, but not without clipping his foot against Jaebeom’s shoulder.

“Sorry.” He says it just to say it.

Jaebeom mumbles into his palm. “How far are we from civilization?”

“Another mile or so. We’ve passed a few houses.” Jaebeom must’ve missed the unmarked driveways in the dark. He trusts Mark’s sense though, knows it’s never wrong. Mark pulls out a GPS from the depths of the floor. “This thing still isn’t working.”

“It’s fine. We’re just gonna find a motel.”

“Oh, my God. A _bed_.” Mark slumps back against the worn, grey bunk.

“A _shower_.” Jaebeom sends the passenger a glare. “A nice, hot shower with soap.”

And Mark laughs at that. High and happy and the brightest thing in the middle of these woods. “You have no right to complain— _none_.”

“It must be so bad for you.”

“I’ve been holding back my puke since yesterday.”

Jaebeom rolls his eyes and rolls down the window. It’s an old pickup, so he has to do it manually. Mark laughs as the cold air gets sucked in, whistling through the window and chilling Jaebeom to the bone. He hates the winters and hates the cold but the wintertime frost helps him feel more awake.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

When they find a motel, the woman eyes them when Jaebeom says he doesn’t care if it’s a double or a single. All he wants is a fucking bed. Even if he has to share it. He wants a bed and a shower. Mark leans against his shoulder blades, his duffel bag knocking into the counter. He gags, being this close to four-days-unshowered Jaebeom, but doesn’t move away. The receptionist spares them a weird glace. She looks exhausted, her mascara smudged around her eyes, only worsening her dark circles.

“We don’t get a lot of ya’ll around here.”

Jaebeom arches his brow at her. Mark’s hand comes up and his warm hand curls around Jaebeom’s bicep, slides down Jaebeom’s arm, moves to curl around his hip. Both hands curl around Jaebeom’s hips. Why is Mark touching him like this?

The receptionist, Tally, her nametag reads, notices and watches the movement. “But I don’t judge.”

Out of all the useless conversations Jaebeom’s ever had.

He takes the key with a tight smile and makes his way down the walkway, finding their one-bed room with Mark leaning against him the whole way there. Jaebeom has accustomed to Mark’s clinginess, and needs it more than he’d ever let on. They’ve left too many people behind; this under the radar, on-the-road lifestyle makes it hard to form any true bonds. In the middle of all the world’s madness, all Jaebeom really has is Mark.

“She thought it was hot.” Mark says into the room as they dump their bags by the foot of the bed.

Just like the roads, motels are another thing that become the same over time. This one has orange walls.

“What was hot?”

“That I touched you. She got real excited.”

Jaebeom rolls his eyes. Mark loves provoking people, but then act like he doesn’t love the attention. Jaebeom will accept any excuse for them to have any type of platonic physical touches, but putting on a show for a disgusting stranger? What the fuck.

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

“She forgot to take your credit card, didn’t she?” Mark wiggles his eyebrows, bites his tongue and hides a little bit of a smile. Oh. What a cheating little bastard.

They’ve been doing this a long, long time; Mark born into this nomadic life while Jaebeom forced into it. It’s been eight years since, and Jaebeom can’t imagine anyone else ever being by his side. There’s something so natural about the two of them; so effortless, that’s taken years and years to smooth out. They weren’t always so in tune with each other, and spending too much time in cramped spaces can wear out that bond and snap it. Every time they manage to mend it, and nothing comes between them.

Jaebeom watches as Mark walks across the room to inspect the bathroom. The way he moves is so confident. Mark is handsome; high cheekbones, sharp eyes, pretty, pouty lips. He looks to be fully a man; quiet but confident and intelligent, while being rather small, thin and lean. Jaebeom knows first hand that Mark’s physical strength doesn’t compare to his size. He holds a power in those sinew muscles that Jaebeom will never be able to understand.

Mark grins, showcasing a mouth full of strong, white teeth. It doesn’t matter how long they’ve known each other, Jaebeom will never not look at the angry canines in Mark’s mouth. They’re long, thick and pointed. Perfect for ripping flesh from meat and bones.

Every flash of his teeth is a fresh reminder that he and Jaebeom aren’t really the same.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

They met at sixteen— well, when Jaebeom was sixteen— and right off the bat Jaebeom thought Mark was a weirdo.

The Tuan family lived in a newly-renovated Tudor mansion down the street, only a few minute walk from Jaebeom’s house. When they first moved in, Jaebeom sat in the window and watched them unload the truck, the front of their house visible from his kitchen window. Jaebeom never went over, though. He could see them unpack, how they moved quickly and efficiently. He had been fascinated with how a boy that appeared to be about his age helped lift a couch covered in boxes and things.

"Just go say hi. It’s rude to stare." Jaebeom's mother, Lara, swatted a hand towel at him. "They've got a boy your age…" she stood next to Jaebeom, put an arm around his shoulder and he leaned into her. "Well, he looks about your age. Go say hi. Make a new friend."

Jaebeom shrugged, going back to the dishes in his hands. "It's okay."

A week or so after the Tuan’s moved in, they went around door to door to greet themselves. They brought apple pie baked from the apples from the tree in the yard. Jaebeom thought it was lame.

When he answered the door the teenage boy about his age physically recoiled, nearly stumbling back off the front steps of the porch. Something flashed in Jaebeom’s vision, something golden and bright and full of fuzzy warmth. He didn’t think much of it when his mother came and put a hand on his shoulder, and he stepped aside to give her a view of the guests.

Jaebeom’s family lived just outside the suburbs, in a neighborhood where the houses sat on a little more land as they got farther and farther from the city. Friendly neighbors were hard to come by in the cul-de-sac. The Tuan’s, though, were friendly.

Ray; a friendly guy with long, wavy hair. Dorinne; small but so poised. Tammy; looked deceivingly sweet. Joey; full of boisterous energy. Mark; still unmoving. The way he looked at Jaebeom, watching with slight terror, made Jaebeom look away and listen to the father, instead. He wasn’t sure what the staring meant.

Ray was a fireman, and wanted to make sure everyone knew he was there if needed.

Jaebeom’s mother had smiled, thanked the family, and closed the door on them. When Jaebeom briefly caught Mark’s gaze thought he saw a wild fascination, and Jaebeom wanted to know what the teenager found so interesting in him.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

When morning comes, Jaebeom needs another shower. Mark has a tendency to curl up during slumber, whether it be with a stack of pillows, or Jaebeom himself, and he radiates heat like a furnace. Jaebeom can barely breathe with Mark thrown over his shoulders. He loves how it feels; how they feel. How the bed always smells… different… after a night of them lying in it.

“Get off me.” Jaebeom grumbles, blinking at the clock. It’s just past eight. He can’t remember when was the last time he slept nearly eight hours. His head feels as clear as the blue sky.

Mark rubs his face into Jaebeom’s shoulders. “Bite me.”

“I know better than to say that back at you.”

The wicked grin that spreads across Mark’s mouth can be felt across the nape of Jaebeom’s neck. There’s a joke there that Jaebeom knows he only toed against, and it holds a much deeper meaning to Mark than it does to himself.

After his shower, Mark slips into the bathroom, and Jaebeom heads out to fill up the gas tank and grab breakfast. A grocery store sits a little further into town, and people stare at him like he’s a threat. He’s been in enough quiet, middle-of-nowhere towns to know that this is the type of place where everybody knows everybody; like who’s fucking who and whose teenage kid snorts coke. An Asian guy decked in leather and combat boots doesn’t fit the countryside. Jaebeom bows his head in greeting and lets the locals look at him like he’s an alien.

The cashier eyes the boxes of frozen sausages and carton of eggs. Jaebeom grabs a carton of OJ, and dumps it all on the counter.

“Poppy’s Diner is right here on First. They make a mean grits and hash.” She gestures over her shoulder, manicured nails bright and orange, festive for the upcoming holiday.

“Thanks, maybe for dinner.” Jaebeom smiles, handing her the cash.

She counts of his change, banging on the old register. “You sticking around?”

“For a couple of days.”

“Well, hopefully I’ll see you around.”

Like clockwork, Jaebeom brings in the food and Mark has the hot plate already turned on and warming up. He takes the food and drops the frozen sausages in the pan, then digs through their bags for seasoning. He always carries seasoning. And hot sauce. Jaebeom enjoys spicy food, but doesn’t understand how Mark can eat something that would burn Jaebeom’s taste buds off.

“There’s a diner, apparently, around the corner.” Jaebeom starts as Mark shakes up the food in their small, cast-iron pan.

“There’s always a diner around the corner.”

Jaebeom smiles at that, waves at the groceries. “I figured it’d be better than doing this for lunch and dinner.”

“There’s also a kidnapping story in town.” Mark says nonchalantly.

“There’s always a kidnapping story.” Jaebeom teases. “Do you want to at least go get some coffee?”

Mark glances over his shoulder, his expression bored and disinterested. “If you want.” Which means he doesn’t want. “You know, I could always just bring us in a deer, or some chickens, or something.”

“I hate killing them.” Jaebeom doesn’t like to think of the times he’s had to snap the necks’ of the poor birds. He fiddles with the zipper of his jacket, and Mark stares from where he’s at, from across the small room, by the desk with the old-ass lamp with the old-ass yellow lampshade.

“We kill things for a living.”

“I know.”

“But you won’t kill a chicken?”

“It just… feels bad. They’re innocent. They didn’t do anything— why are you looking at me like that?”

The way Mark looks at him, eyes alit with amusement, the corner of lips tugging up into a smile, is all teasing. Jaebeom hates that he loves the attention.

“You’re adorable.”

“Shut-up.”

The banter cuts off for now, but Mark turns back to the sizzling food. He has a bigger stomach, so he takes most of it. Jaebeom watches how Mark’s long, deft fingers curl as he cracks an egg on the side of the pan, dropping it in without a mess. To most, it looks like the movement of a professional— and while Jaebeom knows that Mark’s been doing that a long time, he also knows that Mark’s always had an uncanny control over the way he moves. Cracking eggs without spilling a drop or pieces of the shell, is no exception.

Before he knows what he’s saying, lost in the way Mark’s hand moves as he cracks another egg, “I just think we should go out. Grab dinner together.”

“Hmmm,” Mark hums, not all there. “Sounds romantic.”

Jaebeom knows that Mark understands him better than he understands himself. It goes past his elevated senses, too. There’s something else that bonds them together, something that Jaebeom doesn’t understand. So when Mark doesn’t say anything else, his hand poised with the egg cracked in half, hovering over the pan with surprising stillness, Jaebeom tucks his chin down to lower his gaze and avoid Mark’s gaze altogether.

It could be romantic, and Mark knows that.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

As the season passed, Jaebeom’s mom’s house started to fall apart. At first, just small things happened, things with easy fixes; the showerhead needed replacing, the doorknob on the front door got too loose. Jaebeom replaced the shower head, stole a doorknob from the local hardware store, and still, to this day, is pretty sure his mother knew he was lying when he told her he bought it with his own money he collected by tutoring kids at school. He didn’t tutor.

But then they started having real problems; the roof leaked in the bathroom, the pipes burst in the cellar, a tree fell across their yard after a storm. Mr. Tuan came around to check on everyone after that storm, went downstairs to check the fuse box when Jaebeom told him half the house still didn’t have power. With Jaebeom standing over his shoulder holding a flashlight, he explained what all the switches did, and told Jaebeom, “You guys can just come knockin’ on our door if you need anything.”

So Jaebeom, not one to waste time, said, “The roof’s leaking.”

Mr. Tuan let Jaebeom go up the stairs first. He never faced Jaebeom in the dark.

“Where’s it leaking, son?”

The bucket in the bathroom needed to be dumped, so Jaebeom dumped it in the tub then put it back under the drip.

“I can fix that. Mark and I will be back tomorrow with supplies, okay?” Mr. Tuan winked at him.

Mark helped his dad fix the roof. Mark knew everything; how to fix a leaking pipe, how to change the oil in the car, how to change the brakes, how to unclog the sink, how to get the chimney cleaned and a fire going. He’d stick around and accept food as payment.

Somewhere between all of that, Jaebeom learned. He wanted to know how to do all these things to help his mom more. He spent hours with Mark under the hood of the car, figuring out what did what, what attached to where, and what that clunking sound could mean. He never questioned where Mark leaned all of this.

Mark cleaned up the fallen tree, as well. He came out as the weather shifted, a huge axe in hand. He rested it on one shoulder like it weighed nothing. He swung it down through branches and chunks of the fat tree trunk with scary accuracy, the thumping of the axe through the trunk vibrating through Jaebeom’s bones. Mark did it with a power that Jaebeom’s awkward teenager body couldn’t keep up with. Mark did most things without breaking a sweat, with the steadiest hands Jaebeom’s ever seen.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

“Someone’s being murdered.”

Jaebeom rolls over, trying to pull his pillow with him. In the pitch black of the motel room all he can see is the gleam of Mark’s eyes. He doesn’t know what time it is, just that he’d been pulled from the deepest sleep cycle and he already misses it. “A who?”

“Someone’s dying, a few miles from here. There’s a lot of blood.”

Well, this is pretty important. Jaebeom pulls on the lamp switch, rolling onto his back to look at Mark properly. “Is it… I mean…” He watches the way Mark’s eyes flick up to the window, the way his jaw tightens. Jaebeom knows what it’s like to listen to someone gasp out their last breath. He can’t imagine, though, what it’s like to just hear it, to not be standing over the person. He wonders if it’s worse. “Is it our type of problem?”

Mark tips his head, tucks his chin in to his chest. Jaebeom holds his breath. He doesn’t dare move, in case the rustle of the sheets impedes Mark’s hearing.

“Might be vampires. But the human’s already dead, so.”

“Then it’s a problem for the morning.” Jaebeom rolls back on his side, pulling the blankets to his chin. “Did we place garlic by the door and window?”

“No, but I’ll do it.” Mark slides out of bed, digging out stringed garlic to hang from the door handle. He places a few cloves on the windowsill, and Jaebeom finally closes his eyes as Mark comes to curl up into bed. Mark wraps both arms around his waist, burying his face into Jaebeom’s shoulders.

The smell bothers Mark; garlic is strong and clingy, and Mark relies on Jaebeom to keep the scent at bay. They’ve done this a thousand times.

Jaebeom settles back into Mark’s arms, turns off the light and curls a hand around Mark’s forearm. Mark squishes a little closer to him. They’re officially cuddling and Jaebeom's little spoon, but Jaebeom won’t say anything about it if Mark won’t.

“Good night.”

Mark takes a deep breath. His warm breath saturates Jaebeom’s shirt. “G’night.”

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

There are three cars in the driveway; two massive pickup trucks covered in grass and mud and hitched to a wooden trailer overflowing with barrels of hay. There’s a clean, Ford Focus hatchback parked off to the side with an Oregon license plate. Mark elbows Jaebeom, following his gaze towards the vehicle that’s out of place.

“They just got here.” Mark informs, lifting his nose as the breezes comes by. He’s unbothered, while Jaebeom burrows further into his hoodie. He’s going to need another layer, it’s getting cold.

“Got here, as in…?”

“As in just came in from the West Coast. The smell of salt’s still really strong. There’s two of them,” He observes, tilting his nose towards the car as they get closer. “But only one’s inside.”

“A threat?”

“No. He’s just…” Jaebeom knocks on the front door, and as soon as the echo stops, Mark mumbles, “Excited? And he smells… like your mom’s food. Like the spices she used.”

A coldness drops through Jaebeom’s spine despite the pleasant memory of his mother’s cooking, but he suffocates the nostalgia. Mark puts a hand on his lower back, under the jacket but over the hoodie, applies some pressure, just enough for the warmth to linger through the fabric of his clothes. It burns away the chill. He pulls on a smile as the door swings open.

The woman is short, with a full face and rosy cheeks. She smiles like she already knows who they are.

“More reporters?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jones,” Jaebeom reaches out to shake her hand. Her hands are so cold, and feel so frail in his palm. Then she reaches for Mark, who grins at her and raises her hands so he can kiss her knuckles; a distraction from the warmth of his hand. People have questioned if he’s running a fever.

“We’re from The High Tide.” Mark says, dropping her hand. “Could we come ask you some questions about what happened last night?”

“Yes, come in. I’m making some coffee. There’s another boy here, though, says he’s from the West Point Bulletin. Perhaps you know one another?”

Not a chance, The High Tide is a cover-up for hunters. They try to avoid contact with other news publishers.

Mrs. Jones' home is plain and simple, and lined with deer hides. The front door opens right to her living room, where the head of a stag displays proudly over the fireplace. The fire crackles, warm and welcoming. Mrs. Jones motions for them to sit on one of the two couches, where a young man with long legs sits with his knees pressed together, somewhat bent over his legs. He’s tall, trying not to take up a lot of space.

As soon as he sees there are two guests, he jumps up, all wide smiles and genuine greetings.

“Hi! I’m Yugyeom Kim! I’m from West Point Bulletin.” He extends his hand and Jaebeom reaches out to shake it while Mark makes his way around the couch, avoiding the guest. Yugyeom doesn’t seem to mind to wave to him, instead.

“I’m Jaebeom Im, and this is my partner, Mark Tuan.”

“Ah! So cool! Korean, and…?” He points to Mark, who’s gotten closer to the fire.

“Taiwanese.”

“Awesome! Where are you guys from?”

Mark doesn’t smile with his teeth. “The High Tide Telegram.”

Yugyeom gasps, amplifying his look of fascination with a hand to cover his gaping mouth. “No way. The High Tide? You’re from the San Fran headquarters or the New York one?”

They just met, so Jaebeom holds his smart comment about being on the West Coast, why would they have flown in from the other side of the country? He can feel Mark looking at him. “San Fran.” He says, sitting in the middle cushion. It’s only then that Mark comes over, plopping down next to Jaebeom, putting as much space between him and the unfamiliar reporter.

Until Mrs. Jones comes back, Jaebeom entertains Yugyeom’s thousands of questions. He’s so excited, talking animatedly with his hands in the air and his eyebrows expressively detailing his gleeful shock.

“The High Tide…” He mumbles with a low whistle. Mark bristles at Jaebeom’s side. “I could only dream of working for such an accomplished publisher, it’s so old!” Yeah, it serves as a cover when hunters go around claiming they’re working on a story. The agency helps werewolves and more of the harmless, or domesticated, creatures find a place to live, gives them a backstory and IDs. That's pretty much all they do, though. Everything else hunters do, they're on their own with. “So you guys are in the Supernatural subsection?”

“Not subsection.” Mark says, breaking his silence. “Section.”

Yugyeom places a hand over his heart. “A whole section. Amazing!”

Mrs. Jones comes back then, after what seemed like eons, carrying coffee and crackers and cookies. “I hope you don’t mind, I baked these this morning. I have plenty more. I’ve cut up some apples, too, if you’d like. They’re from the orchards out back.”

Mark meets her expectant gaze, and its clear by the joy on her face that she’s officially adopted Mark as a grandchild.

“Oh,” She waggle a bony finger at him. “I like you. I’ll go get more snacks.”

And off she goes. Yugyeom laughs as Jaebeom sinks back into the cushions. “You ate breakfast like, an hour ago.”

“Who am I to deny a grandmother’s good will to feed all the kids she comes by?” Mark grins, patting his stomach. He’s the first to lean over and snag a cookie.

Mrs. Jones comes in then with another glass, this one full of milk. Jaebeom can’t help but rolls his eyes when she places it in front of Mark. She’s already playing favorites, and Mark eats it right up, smiling a wide smile that has Mrs. Jones cooing and reaching over to pinch his cheeks.

“What a healthy appetite you have.”

The room silences and Yugyeom studies them again, so Jaebeom shifts the topic before Yugyeom's suspicions lead him to putting together a puzzle he has no business figuring out. Jaebeom isn’t familiar with West Point Bulletin, he doesn’t actually know anything about reporting. He's here to get information on the dead body on the farm, and figure out if it's a him and Mark problem, or the local police problem. 

“So, Mrs. Jones, you seem awfully relaxed for someone who’s found a dead body on her farm?”

The tension brittles, Mark jabs a finger in his side, as if telling him, _too harsh._ Yugyeom finally pulls his gaze away, looking at the elderly woman across from them. She holds her own mug of tea, the steam swirling up into the air, dancing to the crackles of the fire in the fireplace. All the smiles she carried drops, along with her facade of being okay. Tears well up in her eyes, and Mark gives Jaebeom another subtle jab saying, _you’re an asshole._

“We found him last night, around midnight.”

Right, an hour or so after Mark woke Jaebeom up.

Mrs. Jones stares into her mug. “One of the farmhands, Henry, he never came in last night. One of the sheep got loose, and my son told him not to go, the town’s been shaky since the disappearances. But Henry insisted.”

Disappearing teens; Mark had mentioned it and Jaebeom saw a notice on it when he watched the local news yesterday. They had wanted to pass through the small town with no worries, but maybe putting a human and a supernatural being together attracts weird forces from the universe, because this isn’t the first time Jaebeom and Mark have walked right into trouble. Now they feel obliged to do something about it.

“Where did you find the body?” Yugyeom asks, taking notes with a stylus on his phone.

“Out, way out back. We went searching for him, all of us. Me, my husband, my two sons and my daughter. They wouldn’t let me go out by myself, especially not after how we found one of our cattle dried up last week.”

“Could you explain what you mean by, ‘dried up’?” Yugyeom echoes before Jaebeom can. He’s good at what he does, and a little more gentle than rash Jaebeom.

“Yeah. Dried up. Couldn’t find an ounce of blood anywhere. We found Henry the same way, but with... with patches...” The rosy color from her cheeks is gone, her blue eyes pale and full of shock.

“Where’s the rest of your family? Are they safe?” Jaebeom asks the questions and Mark sits at his side, observing, listening to what Jaebeom can’t.

“Yes, my sons are upstairs. It’s been a long few days, so they’re sleeping. My husband and my daughter went to the market to get some food. And some flowers, so we can lay them where we found Henry.”

“Can we see where you found Henry?”

Yugyeom looks at Jaebeom, as if surprised by the inquiry. Mrs. Jones nods. “Let me wake up my sons. They won’t like it if I got out there without them.”

It’s noon, the sun raised high in the sky and she’s safer with Mark alone than with four other guys, but they don’t argue. While she heads upstairs to get her two sons, the living room quiets, alive with just the sparks of the fire. Yugyeom doesn’t initiate conversation, but scribbles on his IPad. He pulls out his IPhone and sends a text, completely ignoring the other two. Jaebeom eyes the tech; he’s probably not a hunter with all of that. He’s probably just a reporter that’s about to get way in over his head with vampires and murders.

Mrs. Jones’ two sons, Hawthorne and Benjamin, are two broad-shouldered blonds not much taller than Jaebeom, shorter than Yugyeom. They’re pretty drowsy, blinking awkwardly as they step out into the sun. They trudge behind the group in untied boots, and Jaebeom hovers a little closer to Mark every time the breeze whips through.

The spot where Henry died appears untouched. If it weren’t for the police tape surrounding the corner, there’d be no evidence of a dead body. The grass is green and luscious. There’s no indent, no marker, of where a dead body would be, aside from the spokes that mark where his body lay, how Henry’s feet and hands were splayed open when he stopped struggling. There’s no blood. At least, not any Jaebeom can see, anyway. He glances to Mark, who tips his nose in the air ever so slightly. He gives a small head shake. No. There’s no blood.

Mrs. Jones fills them in on how the body was found. The sons stand to the side.

“There was no one around, we didn’t even hear screaming. But he was found here, dead. And our sheep are missing.”

Jaebeom asks her a few more questions: what was her relation to Henry? Did he have any enemies? Did he ever get into trouble? Mrs. Jones and her sons have no answers. Benjamin says that Henry had always been a good kid. Those are the answers Jaebeom expected. There’s not typically any vengeance behind vampire attacks.

“It’s aliens.” Hawthorne mumbles. “It’s gotta be aliens. He’d been probed. And he was missin' chunks of flesh, like someone took bites.”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Jones scolds.

“Probed? Where?” Jaebeom already knows the answer to his question, though,

“On his neck.” Hawthorne raises his pointer and middle finger to his neck. Right up against his jugular.

While Vampires can survive anywhere, cases of them unceremoniously attacking people or cattle is rare. Typically they're quiet, broody and meticulous. They hunt carefully, and clean up their victims if they drink the humans dry. Vampires can be a problem, but tend to stay in the shadows, unnoticed. If they started massacring people, they wouldn’t be just legends. The public would know about them.

According to Mark, vampires smell like like empty air; neutral and not there, absorbing the smells around them. If these vampires lived in the woods, they’d smell of moss and dirt. When they’re full, they smell like iron and death. It’ll be difficult for Mark and Jaebeom to track them.

Back inside, Mrs. Jones wraps them up food to go. Yugyeom thanks her endlessly, but Mark, who gets a heaping amount more than the other two, promises he’ll be back for more.

Temporarily forgetting the trouble going on in her own yard, Mrs. Jones claps her hands. “Oh, please do! You’re too skinny! You must eat more!”

Yugyeom wishes them well as they head out. He asks if they’re staying in town. Jaebeom won’t tell him what motel they’re staying at, though. He avoids that question by pretending he doesn’t hear it.

On their way out, Yugyeom trails behind them down the narrow driveway. Halfway through, he turns his car headlights on.

It’s sunny and midday, and Mark glances confusedly at the mirrors. “He’s a weird guy.”

Jaebeom doesn’t like him much, either. But it’s probably for a different reason.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

One night after summer had started to settle, the night air promising cooler days ahead, Jaebeom and Mark built a fire out in the backyard, and Jaebeom accepted himself as gay.

It’s always been there, but kneeling by the fire with Mark, the neighbor boy that looked good covered in grease, and sometimes had eyes that reflected golden in the light, that knew how to do everything and did it with the widest smile on his face, made it so much clearer to Jaebeom.

The oranges and reds of the fire danced over Mark’s smooth skin. The sparks popped; alive. Jaebeom wondered if he’d feel that spark if he reached out and touched Mark. Jaebeom’s throat tightened.

Mark closed his eyes and tilted his head back to bask in the warmth and Jaebeom followed the trace of his jawline, the roundness of his lips, the bob of his Adam’s apple. Jaebeom was sixteen and curious; eager to chase his desires and learn about them; learn about himself and learn about Mark.

“How come you don’t go to school?” Jaebeom couldn’t stop himself from asking, he needed to break the build-up that happened in his gut. “You look like you’re my age?”

Mark opened his eyes, the fire made them look a much lighter color. Like a warmed gold, like the first day they met. Jaebeom dreamed in that color. “I’ll start next year. I’ll be there for junior and senior year.”

“Maybe we’ll have classes together.”

The way Mark smiled at him made him want to lean forward, to lean right into the magnetic pull of his eyes. It was like Mark glowed; something about his skin, and the way he moved, and the way he smiled. He usually smiled tightly. But that night, happiness radiating off him, Mark shone more brilliantly. Jaebeom had never paid much attention to his mouth, but that night his gaze fell down and he wondered about the size of Mark’s teeth, how they looked unnatural. But fit him.

With eyes full of careful consideration, Mark said nothing. Jaebeom knew that Mark watched him in the same manner Jaebeom looked at his mouth. But Jaebeom felt… something. In his gut. A faint pull of fear and anxiety. Mark’s teeth looked like animal canines, like the German Shepard their neighbor used to have. Duller, but not very human.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Poppy’s Diner bustles for a Thursday night. The waiters and waitresses buzz on by, but always stop for a fresh refill of coffee or water, a bright smile, and keep going. The place works like a well-oiled machine. It’s been in business for a long, long time. The red and white tiles are scuffed and dull near the tables, probably from a time when the waitresses moved around in roller blades. But like most other diners, the menu doesn’t vary much. Jaebeom and Mark have their go-to’s.

“I like places like this.” Mark ignores that half the patrons stare at their odd guests.

“We stick out like black sheep.”

That's the least of Mark's concerns. He's used to people staring at him. “But this place is cute. It’s full of history. Look at the photos on the wall.” The photos are all of the front of the diner, spaced out by a few years each. The photos go from black and white to color, and the cars parked out front become more and more modern.

The waitress comes back and Jaebeom, who had been looking at Mark instead of the photographs, thanks her with a smile.

“A bacon burger for you, with coleslaw and fries and a pickle,” She sets Jaebeom’s plate in front of him. She takes two expertly balanced plates and sets them in front of Mark. “And a Southern style burger, still moo-ing, with gravy fries, a house salad, and a western omelet. For the hungry guy.” The waitresses eyes linger for a moment on Mark. There’s something unnaturally handsome about him. It entrances everyone, whether or not he’s their type.

“Thanks,” Mark’s eyes flicker to her nametag. “Summer. That’s pretty. I wish it were summer now, instead of almost-winter.”

Summer blushes. Jaebeom rolls his eyes. Mark isn’t even _good_ with pick-up lines. If only she knew how awkward he can really be. But, just like everyone else, they take the bait. “You don’t like the winter?”

Mark shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me, I guess. But I like the longer days.”

“Hm, I like the winter, though. It’s nice to stay in with someone, you know? Spend a night in.” She gravitates towards Mark’s bench. She looks to be just young enough to still be in college, and he wonders if she’d be offended if she knew Mark's real age.

Once her hand touches Mark’s shoulders, even if it’s only the faintest brush of her fingers, Jaebeom clears his throat to remind them that he’s very much here. Summer has other tables to tend to. She leaves without even looking embarrassed, and saunters off with a wave of her hand. Her left hand. Where there’s no ring. When she makes it to the counter she turns to see if Mark’s watching. He’s not.

“You do this every time.”

Mark watches Jaebeom the way Summer probably wishes Mark would watch her. “Yeah, and you turn redder than a tomato every time. I wanna eat you up.”

Jaebeom’s hands fly to cover his face. “I do not —”

The bell hanging over the door saves Jaebeom's pride by tinkling with new customers. Mark has his back to the entrance, but he recognizes the scent of the man from earlier. He looks over his shoulder, spots the second person Yugyeom is with, and swings back around, “He’s a vampire.”

Even though Mark whispers it, the thin guy by Yugyeom’s side glances over. From here, Jaebeom only sees his lips move. Mark furrows his brow, and mumbles something.

The guy is almost just as tall as Yugyeom, but his hair is black, and from here, even through his round glasses, Jaebeom can tell that his eyes are too light-colored to be human. They’re grey. The way he holds himself is very different from Yugyeom; Yugyeom is lazy, leisure, very human and warm, while the other guy stands in a way that makes him look taller, his movements sharp and distinct. Yugyeom’s skin is sun-kissed, and while the vampire’s skin is fair, he doesn’t look pale or sickly. Vampires are the easiest to spot in a crowd. They look unreal.

Yugyeom looks over when the vampire prompts him, and grins when he spots the two. He turns to Summer and says something to make her look surprised, but motions for the two to follow her.

Of course they want to sit together. Of course.

Yugyeom sits next to Mark, eyeing the plates of food. “I knew it.” He whispers like he won something. “I fuckin’ knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“Your appetite? The way you move around Jaebeom like you’re anticipating his moves? The way you sniffed the air at the scene of the crime. Your teeth, dude. They’re huge. And I turned the headlights on as we were heading out to see if your eyes would reflect the light. They did.” He leans over to whisper, but says it just loudly enough for Jaebeom to hear. “You’re a werewolf.”

“You’re too small to be an alpha.” The vampire comments, leaning comfortably against the seat. He sounds flippant, like his knowledge can’t be refuted. “Where’s your pack?”

“Where’s your clan?” Mark counters, unbothered by how these two figured out his identity so fast. They have to be good at what they’re doing, if they picked up on all the signs most humans don’t. Jaebeom makes a mental note to look into West Point Bulletin.

The vampire narrows his gaze. “I asked first.”

“Anyway.” Yugyeom waves between the two. Jaebeom’s surprised by the vampire’s childish remark, but tunes in for introductions. The vampire’s name is Bambam.

“Wow that’s… so not scary.” Jaebeom blinks and Mark just sniggers around his fries loaded with gravy and cheese.

Bambam frowns, pushing his glasses up his nose. They’re not real. A cute prop. “I’m sorry, what do you want me to say? Edward?”

“Like Ed the Talking Horse? How frightening.” Mark delivers with disinterest, shoving a loaded fry into his mouth.

Yugyeom and Jaebeom both sputter, “What?” while Bambam doesn’t bother to hide his surprise. “Woah, how old are you?”

Summer comes back, seemingly upset now that Mark’s out of her reach with Yugyeom sitting on the end. Yugyeom orders a dish for him and Bambam to share. But when it comes out, Bambam doesn’t eat a bite.

Jaebeom’s never been this close to a vampire that isn’t trying to kill him. It almost feels like he isn’t there; there’s no warmth. No sound of his breathing. He sits so still he blends into the background, and it’s only when he moves, awakening in the peripheral of Jaebeom’s vision, that Jaebeom remember he’s there. Bambam’s hands linger around the plate, but he doesn’t eat. Yugyeom does most of the talking, filling Bambam in on what happened that afternoon, and waves his hands dramatically when Jaebeom and Mark chime in.

“Okay, but,” Bambam frowns at their accusations. “There’s no way a vampire can drink all that blood. Do you know how long I can last on a pint of blood? What kind of vampire feeds on a whole cow, and then a human a few days later?”

Jaebeom makes a face. Bambam talks as if he doesn’t go around preying on people, so he has to have a safe source of food, but it’s still gross.

“Maybe there’s a clan?” Yugyeom offers, slurping up the last of his milkshake.

“How many do you need to make a clan, though? They would’ve left behind something if there were too many of them.” Mark says, tapping his nose. He means he would’ve been able to smell it if there were too many. One of them would have to carry a scent that he could track.

“Why are there teens missing from town?” Jaebeom guesses these things are linked somehow.

“Or maybe a family with all these newborns?” Mark suggests.

“Aren’t there five teens missing? I think a few newborns and a few other vampires would need a whole cow.” Jaebeom adds, turning to their guests.

That’s the one that shuts Bambam up. “Oh. Possibly. Mr. Mutt over here should’ve been able to smell them, though. Don't newborns still carry a scent?”

Mark’s eyes flash to their natural, fully golden color. “You can’t smell them, period. What’s your excuse?”

Yugyeom waves a hand over the table. “Hey, hey. No fighting.”

They trade phone numbers when it’s time to leave. Yugyeom promises he’ll keep them in the know, and Jaebeom makes an empty promise back. The diner is close enough to the motel that they walked over, and they bid good-bye to Yugyeom and Bambam as they pull away in the hatchback.

He’s not going to keep them in the loop. He can’t say he doesn’t like the duo because they’re a human/vampire pair, since he travels around with a werewolf, but he doesn’t like Yugyeom’s unbridled interest in Mark. It’s not romantic, it’s unfair to assume that, but Mark likes the attention. Even if he pretends not to. And Jaebeom’s the jealous type. And he doesn’t trust vampires. There are a lot of reasons why he doesn’t like Yugyeom and Bambam.

They’ve done team-up’s before. It’s not uncommon to run into slayers or hunters, and Jaebeom has a growing list of people that owe him favors, or their life, but Yugyeom’s young. It’s clear in the way his eyes sparkle. He’s new to the game, if his excitement towards the supernatural is anything to go by. Jaebeom has long tired this life, but accepts it. Because when he’s not trying to die by a monster that for the longest time, was nothing more than a nightmare, it’s a pretty okay life. He gets to travel, meet people. Kind of.

Mark grabs his wrist, then moves to tangle their fingers together. “What’s up?”

“What?”

Mark’s thumb comes up to smooth out the wrinkle between Jaebeom’s eyes. “What are you thinking?”

Jaebeom relaxes, unwrinkling his brow. “Yugyeom looks like he’s barely twenty.”

“They’re a good resource, y’know.”

“This shit is dangerous.”

“So? You were eighteen when you got dragged into this, and we’ve been chasing monsters since we were twenty-one.”

Jaebeom tightens his grip on his partner’s hand. “I’ve been chasing monsters since I was twenty-one. What were you? Like, three hundred?”

“No, like, a hundred and twenty-seven.”

His age is a conversation that took a long time to get used to, and even though Jaebeom still can’t quite wrap his around around the magnitude of it— that Mark’s older then his great-grandmother, who’s been dead since his toddler years— there are times when Jaebeom feels helplessly insignificant next to Mark. Like he’s nothing. Sitting next to an immortal being and an semi-immortal being for dinner does that to a guy. Makes him feel like nothing. He moves in a daze, getting back to the motel and ready for bed with his head foggy.

Mark snags the toothbrush from Jaebeom’s mouth. He doesn’t say anything, he just watches him. Jaebeom could fall into the sweet honey of his eyes.

That’s what Jaebeom thinks of when Mark lets his eyes shine their natural, golden color. He thinks of honey. He’s reminded of the taste of the tea his mother would make for him at the turn of winter, to soothe his throat and warm his belly. He thinks of the summer, of sunshine, of the bees and flowers. He thinks of late nights, honey in chamomile, to ease his mind and slumber. He thinks of Mark; how he’s sweet, thick-headed, yet soothing and summertime.

Jaebeom leans against Mark. Mark’s arms wrap around his waist.

Though he doesn’t have the nose of a wolf, Jaebeom swears he can even smell a faint trace of honey, apples and spice on Mark’s skin. It’s a thick, but barely-there, smell. He knows all werewolves have a distinct aroma, and wonders if the scent of honey, apples and spice is Mark’s scent. Or perhaps he’s projecting.

“Let’s go lie down.” Mark says quietly.

“Okay.”

They plan on napping for a few hours, then heading out in the dead of night to see what’s attacking the farm animal’s on Jones’ Acres.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

“Bringing up your mother was really insensitive. I’m sorry.”

Right. Earlier that morning when they had first come to the farm.

They’re trekking through the woods. Jaebeom wields a flashlight and Mark walks a few steps in front of him. Mark doesn’t need the flashlight, even with the swampy darkness of the dense forest he can see just fine. He clears the path ahead, holding tree limbs and kicking aside rocks as if they were as light as soccer balls.

“It’s fine.” Jaebeom says. This time, his heart doesn’t lurch so painfully. “I know she’s a good memory for you, too.”

“But…” Mark spares a glance over his shoulder. Jaebeom looks up just in time to golden gleam of his eyes. Jaebeom doesn’t need a flashlight to be able to see them, like a beacon in the dark. “I still have my parents. I don’t know what it’s like, and I can be kind of insensitive about it.”

“You loved her a lot, I know that. You went with me to the funeral, and you followed me to find the vampire that killed her. I couldn’t have killed it without you.”

Mark reaches back, poised enough to be able to grab Jaebeom’s hand while stepping over gnarly tree roots, and not trip. Jaebeom feels the warmth of his palm linger.

“It kind of makes me wonder why you’re still here.”

“What do you mean?” Mark’s voice comes out in a breath. He can’t be tired. They haven’t been walking that long, and his stamina trumps that of a human’s by an amount that Jaebeom has witnessed a thousand times.

“We killed that vampire over four years ago. Why didn’t you go home?”

There’s a pause, Marks probably shrugs but Jaebeom can’t really see.

“I have no problems with this life.”

Jaebeom almost asks, _why did you stay with me?_ knowing full well that Mark’s pack would welcome him back without hesitation, and what’s a wolf without his pack? Off the top of his head, Jaebeom can’t think of very many stories of werewolves living alone without going crazy. Mark has Jaebeom, of course, but Jaebeom’s limited knowledge of werewolves tells him that it’s not normal. Mark being so separate from other wolves should make him insane with loneliness.

Even with all the readings and studying he’s done on the creatures, and all the questions he’s harassed Mark with, there’s only so much he can know as a human.

They’re on the outskirts of the woods now, not too far from where Henry’s body lay. The moon is high in the cloudless sky, and from here, the stars look beautiful. Jaebeom shuts off his flashlight, sits cross legged in the soil, and stares up. Mark comes up behind him and sits with his legs around Jaebeom, pressing them chest-to-back, so he can wrap Jaebeom up and keep him warm. Jaebeom closes his eyes, trying not to let himself lean too much into the embrace. Having Mark like this makes him selfishly wish the werewolf would never go home to his pack.

“Yugyeom and Bambam are coming.” Mark is quiet, almost like a whisper.

Jaebeom heaves a sign and rolls his eyes. “I thought he said he was gonna keep us updated.”

“You said that, too, and then didn’t say shit to them.” Mark hums, tucking his chin over Jaebeom’s shoulder. Jaebeom allows himself to lean back; get closer.

He’s not sure how far out there are, but knows that with Mark’s hearing, it’s not like the two are close. Jaebeom stares up at the crescent moon.

“Isn’t the full moon in a few nights?”

Mark hums.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. I’m not worried.”

There’s no need to fill the silence. Jaebeom pulls away from the embrace and shines his flashlight down towards the dirt to try and find anything — anything at all — that could give them a clue. There are no footprints, no broken twigs, nothing. Nothing at all to give them a hint at what it could be. Mark doesn’t pick up on any scents, either. Nothing seems to be working.

After a while of searching, Mark leans up against a tree and waits for the other two to arrive. When they do, he gets right to the point, “You guys know werewolves, too?”

Bambam makes a surprised noise and sniffs his jacket. “Woah, you’re good.”

“We don’t _know_ them.” Yugyeom is so quick to try and appease the situation. “We met them after dinner.”

“I thought they were just passing through.” Mark comments, and Jaebeom moves to his side, looking for warmth. It’s gotten significantly colder as they get deeper into the night. He tightens his fist in his pockets to try and keep his hands warm.

“How would you know?” Bambam presses.

“Because nothing around here is marked. This is all free land, for miles.”

“Oh.”

Yugyeom cuts through again. “So, we have a huge problem.”

Jaebeom presses against Mark now, and sighs in relief when an arm wraps around his waist. Good. Heat. “A bigger problem than a dead guy?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Yugyeom at least sounds a little guilty about his insensitive remark of Henry’s life. “We might have multiple dead teens if we don’t get to the heart of this. We bumped into a small pack cutting through town, and they said that there’s a weird rumor going around about there being a clan settling into town. If you said it’s all free territory,” Yugyeom looks at Mark, glances at the way Jaebeom fits into Mark’s side. “They might not leave.”

There’s a moment of silence where Jaebeom doesn’t believe a word he’s hearing. He glances towards Mark, whose eyes reflect the faint moonlight like an animal in the night. It’s probably the creepiest thing about him.

“We planned to text you in the morning.” Bambam says, drawing their attention back. “We figured we could talk about it over breakfast.”

“What are you doing out here then, if you have all this information?” Jaebeom still isn’t biting the bait.

“We just wanted to see if we missed anything from earlier.” Yugyeom explains. He shines his flashlight down towards the ground. Jaebeom wants to tell him that there’s nothing, but shuts his mouth. Another pair of eyes could possibly make a difference.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Jaebeom doesn’t trust Yugyeom— he and Bambam just so happened to bump into others that might know what’s going on? Fat chance. Jaebeom has learned that coincidences like that don’t happen. Life doesn’t work out that well. Even if Mark assures that Yugyeom’s heart rate never fluctuated and hinting at any lying while he spoke, Jaebeom knows that lying can be mastered. He’s convinced that with enough practice, a well-practiced lie could work on the supernatural, too.

With a gun holstered securely and hidden under his sweater, Jaebeom attaches a knife to his side. He’s seen a few of the townsfolk walking around with their own, and knows that it won’t draw any extra attention that he’s already getting. He’s yet to see a single Asian person in his town, and they must be confused at the sight of four wandering through their town the past two days.

On day four, the day after Yugyeom shared what little news they’d uncovered, Mark and Jaebeom spend some time in the local library, scrolling through archives and newspapers for anything that would stand out as suspicious. The work is long and tedious and requires an absurd amount of concentration and dedication, but the pair know what to look for. Mark supplies Jaebeom with coffee throughout the day, getting refills from the coffee shop across the street when Jaebeom gets lost in a newspaper. He brings food; sandwiches and pastries, and drops them at Jaebeom’s side like small offerings. Then, Mark goes back to his own reading.

They receive a text about an hour before the library closes. Some kids linger around, doing homework, and an after school program wraps up down the hall, the sounds of children laughing over Clifford the Big Red Dog scattering down the hallway. It’s not enough to break the hunters from their reverie, but Jaebeom can’t help but wonder if it breaks Mark’s concentration, since he can probably make out the sounds of heartbeats and pumping blood from across the library, while Jaebeom can barely hear the sounds of words.

From: Yugyeom Kim West Point Bulletin

Hey, we’re gonna meet up with the pack tonight. You and Mark are invited!!  
_5:27PM_

The second text gives a location of a motel on the other side of town.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

The pack consists of five werewolves— Jinyoung, Youngjae, Suzy, Jia, and their alpha, Jackson. Jackson can’t much taller than Mark, but he’s impressive in his physical stature. His broad shoulders are pushed back, exuding confidence. His features are handsome, a fair description for the word ‘manly,’ and his brown hair sweeps back off his forehead.

Jaebeom has crossed paths with many packs— Mark’s pack had been his neighbors for years, and they took him in after his mother died— but these five are different from what he’s encountered. They’re modern. He can tell by the way they get along with Bambam, ignoring the deeply-engraved instinct of being enemies for centuries, and laugh along with the vampire as if he were one of their own. They also welcome Yugyeom and Jaebeom differently than the Tuan pack, or any other pack, for that matter. They don’t dote on Jaebeom like some dumb, helpless human, who has to work their way up a ladder for respect, and have nothing but comradeship.

Jinyoung tells them about some “vampire friend” they have, another huge arrow pointing towards how they’re much less traditional and hold different values that Jaebeom’s seen Mark struggle to adapt to, and tell them that the word through the grapevine is that the disappearing teens have to do with the supernatural, not other humans.

“So why doesn't anyone _know_ what's in the woods?” Jaebeom still tries to understand what’s really happening here.

“I think it's vampires, that some clan has been kickin’ it here and feeding on the teens, I think the disappearing kids might’ve been turned, or dried out.” Jackson explains, and even though he’s talking to the whole group, his eyes linger far too much on Mark and Jaebeom.

“There’s, what, five missing teens?” Yugyeom supplies, flipping through his notepad and gesturing towards Mark, including Jaebeom and Mark in his statement as if they were working together on this. “We think that the cow and Henry were just an accident by the newborn, and was covered up really well. Because why else would Henry have been found, totally mangled? And that’s why Mark couldn’t smell them.”

The heat inside the motel room blasts too high, probably a courtesy by the pack for the humans, but Mark hovers close to Jaebeom. Close enough for his body heat to be coming off in waves. Jaebeom’s sweating under his hoodie. It's a university one to a college he never actually attended. It just helps with the ‘reporter’ vibe.

Jinyoung, the werewolf in the back with black, wavy hair and bangs that remind Jaebeom more of a puppy that some creature from children’s nightmares, has his chin rested in his palm, his sharp eyes unmoving from the hunters. He watches as Mark scoots closer to Jaebeom on the couch, elbows linking.

When Jinyoung looks back up, he doesn’t avert his gaze when it locks with Jaebeom’s. He doesn’t shy away now that he’s been caught watching, but blinks instead, keeping his thoughts and emotions at bay. Jaebeom can’t read him. He can’t figure out why Jinyoung has his eye on them so intently.

Mark pushes his shoulder against Jaebeom’s, and he swears he feels the rumblings of a growl shake through Mark’s system.

For the first time in over an hour, Jinyoung’s expression changes. His eyes remain unreadable, but the corner of his lip twitches into a smirk. He watches Mark, now.

Jia, who sits at his side on the bed, nudges his knee. Her long hair is pulled back into a messy bun, her side bangs pinned, revealing a small, beautiful face that’s twisted with frustration. Her hands are small and fingers thin, but Jaebeom knows she could lift a car with those skinny arms and not struggle with it.

She shoves her fingers into Jinyoung’s knee, wordlessly telling him to stop taunting. Jinyoung eases up, relaxing back against the headboard and crossing his arms over his chest. From this position, Jaebeom can see the strength compressed in his biceps, and the firmness of his pecs through the crewneck he wears. It’s not tight and showy, but not unflattering.

Jaebeom thinks he’s being squared up to. This doesn’t affect him, he’s fought werewolves before. He spars with Mark. The knife at his side is made of silver.

“Oh, my God, Jinyoung.” Jackson paces the floor, wearing a groove in the carpet. “Can you not scare our guests?”

Youngjae laughs, loud and strong. His bark in wolf form but be terrifying if he can project his voice like that in human form.

After throwing around a few ideas, and making the plan of the next step being: find the vampire nest, Jinyoung derails the conversation with a question aimed entirely at Jaebeom.

“How long have you two been together?”

Jaebeom can feel Jinyoung’s steel blue eyes pinned on him, and Mark’s pressed right up against side, their elbows linked, with Mark’s hand burning through his jeans, curled around his thigh. At the sound of his voice, Mark stiffens.

“How is that relevant?” Jaebeom counters, trying to smooth back into the important topic on hand. He can’t figure out what Jinyoung’s issue is.

“I’m just curious.”

“Yeah, me too.” Bambam mumbles from where he’s standing a few feet over, leaning against the wall behind Yugyeom, who sits in a chair in front of him. Jaebeom’s noticed that’s where Bambam tends to like to be, right by Yugyeom’s side, standing a few steps behind him. He doesn’t know much about vampires and how they feel towards humans, since it’s typically not a very positive relationship, lots of take and take, but it seems like Bambam always tries to be in a spot that he can protect Yugyeom from. Or a spot where he can attack from, without resistance.

If he thinks that Jaebeom will lower his guard because the attention switches to him, he's wrong.

“You don’t have someone waiting for you back at home?” Jinyoung continues on. Jaebeom glances at Jackson, to see if he’s upset over this abrupt topic change, but he’s not. He stands still by the bed, hasn’t moved since he’d been cut off.

“My home is on the road.” Jaebeom replies. That’s all they need to know.

“I kind of figured you were traveling hunters.” Suzy chimes in. She’s a sweet-looking girl with round caramel eyes. The way she rests against Youngjae suggests there’s something stronger between the two of them than with the others. Jaebeom guesses they’re mates.

“So. No girl waiting for you?” Jinyoung’s smirk is back.

“Oh— wait.” Jaebeom isn’t shy about who he is. “No, I like men.”

“Ah, out and proud! That’s awesome, dude!” Jackson leans in for a high-five. There’s a lapse in Jaebeom’s reaction, but their palms clap together and it echoes through the room. What just happened.

“Oh!” Jia perks up. She’s so cute. “I’ve never met a werewolf/human couple before.”

A noose tightens around Jaebeom’s neck.

“Gay werewolves?” He can’t help the way it comes out in such a guffaw; so disbelieving, like it’s something so unheard of and foreign. And it’s a really bad defensive measure. Really bad. He never asked Mark if werewolves can have same-sex mates. It’s an odd discussion to have, that even in their quietest moments, when they’re miles and miles from civilization, it hasn’t come up.

It also never came up because Jaebeom’s nursed his feelings for Mark for so long that he can’t accept or fathom that their relationship would turn into anything other than what it is now.

The room goes dead silent. Even Jinyoung loses his words, his eyes wide and open now; apologetic. Jackson’s eyebrows press together and he gnaws on his thumb, gaze flickering between Mark and Jaebeom.

With everyone in the room staring at him, Jaebeom feels like a clown.

“What’s wrong?”

Yugyeom makes a small, barely audible noise of realization. From the corner of his eye, Jaebeom catches the way Bambam’s hand moves to settle on the human’s shoulder. To comfort and shush him as politely as possible.

The whole room tips when Mark stands. “How about we finish this discussion another night?” He pulls Jaebeom up by his arm, leading him to the door and outside, but it feels just as stuffy out under the starry night sky as it did between four, peeling walls.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

They don't bother talking about what happened. Jaebeom understands a lot about packs, the Tuan pack is his family. He knows he can still consider them family. But while the dynamics in the Tuan pack are stiff and traditional, Jackson’s pack is new and has adapted to a much more modern way of doing things; showcased by the lackadaisical interactions between the members.

Focusing on that instead of the other thing— werewolves being okay with homosexuality— Jaebeom goes right to bed that night. He gets up the next morning with Mark standing over the burner cooking breakfast.

He does this sometimes.

Mark’s making eggs, and there are stray feathers littered across the room. Looks like lunch and dinner are also prepared.

Jaebeom doesn’t have to say anything for Mark to know he’s awake. They exchange quiet good mornings while Mark doesn’t even look over his shoulder.

“Don’t look in the tub.”

Jaebeom quirks his eyebrow.

“I haven’t gotten the chance to clean it yet.”

“You know I don’t care about blood.”

“Yeah, but,” Mark glances over his shoulder. His eyes are honey again, their natural, beautiful color. “I know you don’t like it.” Then he smiles again, his large canines hidden by the extra fabric of his hood folded over his shoulder. “The innocent chickens.”

Jaebeom chucks a pillow across the room even though he knows it’s useless, then gets up and strides across the room, pelting Mark with it until Mark snags it from his hand.

One swing from Mark and the pillow explodes, and Jaebeom’s knocked off his feet and to the floor.

He blinks up at the ceiling, past the swirling feathers, while Mark laughs and laughs and laughs.

It’s the perfect sound first thing in the morning.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

They wonder if the kids in the local high school would know what happened to their classmates; if there’s a pattern in their hang out spots, or who they spoke to, or if they were friends with each other. So Yugyeom suggests interviewing the kids. But they’re minors, and that runs the gang into legal problems.

“This is a classic, small-town-with-nothing-else-to-do.” Bambam can’t stay out in the sun for extended periods of time. Traveling across town to hole up in Jackson’s pack’s motel room had been easy, but he needs time hidden away from the sun to recuperate. They meet him, Suzy and Youngjae back at the motel.

“What do you mean by ‘classic?’” Jaebeom asks, dropping onto the couch. It smells. He doesn’t move anyway.

“Like, a bunch of high schoolers in a small town in the middle of nowhere need something to do. They’re probably all hanging out at the same spots and that’s where they’re getting snatched.” Bambam waves his hand. "Drugs. I bet they're hanging out, smokin', and that makes them an easy target."

“It's plausible. Maybe we need to interview the kids someplace else.” Suzy stands by the mini fridge, digging out drinks for everyone. Bambam looks surprised when she hands him a cup. “It’s quail’s blood. From breakfast.”

For a second he stares at her, gaping. “Wow. Thanks. This is. Cool.”

Suzy smiles softly at him, then passes out juice cartons to the rest of them. Jaebeom hasn’t drank sugary Capri Sun since childhood, but gratefully accepts it.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Jackson, Jinyoung and Suzy had gone out earlier to scope out the students; to try and hear any type of gossip coming from them in hopes of getting any type of information. But they come back with nothing. Jinyoung guesses it’s because it’s the twenty-first century and they talk through text now.

"You probably sound like narcs, too." He adds, and Jaebeom tries really hard not to laugh.

Jaebeom and Mark spend the night back at their own motel. Jaebeom gives up, lounging with a full belly of Mark’s homemade chicken and rice dinner, flicking through the channels. Mark’s hunched over the desk in the corner, looking over Jaebeom’s notes from the library.

“Do you think an abandoned factory is too easy?” He asks, pointing to something written Jaebeom’s messy scrawl. “There’s a factory just on the outside of town that’s been abandoned since the’ 80’s.”

“Nah, that’s way too easy.” Jaebeom slides down against the sheets, lying more, getting more comfortable, and less likely to get back up. “We should probably still scope it out, though.”

“If this town wasn’t so small, we could just hang out on the green and trail some teens. But everyone’s all up in each other’s business. We’d be noticed. And the cops are _everywhere_. In a town this small they’re probably itching to have something to do.”

“Why are you rushing this?” The lax vibe from the rest of the gang has gotten to Jaebeom. He wants to take it easy. They’ve been hunched over books and hanging around town for days. They weren’t even supposed to stay.

“Because we're still not totally sure we shaked the hunters." Oh, is it bad Jaebeom forgot about them? "And the full moon is tonight and I’m gonna be a wolf for a few days and then we’re just gonna have to— ”

“Okay. So then tomorrow I’ll just take my pet wolf on a walk up near the old factory grounds.”

Mark throws a long-suffering glare over his shoulder. “Not funny.”

Jaebeom grins at him, then gestures to the spot at his side. “Come lie down?” He rubs the bed. “Please?” But Mark still doesn’t budge. “Please? Come cuddle?”

The word ‘cuddle’ seems to do it. Mark grumbles under his breath, leaves behind his pen and their notes, and curls himself right into Jaebeom’s side. Jaebeom forgets the rest of the world when they’re tangled like this, together, with the outside world barely audible on the other side of the walls. It’s incredible how they spend so much time together, but moments alone are comforting and precious.

Jaebeom pulls Mark to rest on his chest. Mark buries his face in Jaebeom’s neck, humming as Jaebeom’s fingers card through his brown hair. His breathing is hot and wet on Jaebeom’s pulse, along the stretch of his neck.

In one of the books he’s read on werewolves, it said that the neck is an intimate spot. Jaebeom doesn’t quite remember the details, but there’s this faint, mostly ignored, voice in the back of his head telling him this is dangerous.

Mark gets closer, a hum rumbling through his chest, vibrating against Jaebeom’s as he’s half underneath the werewolf right now. He swallows thickly when Mark’s crotch presses against his hip. There’s not a lot of pressure, but it’s just enough for Jaebeom to feel the press of Mark’s zipper through jeans, and maybe the outline of his dick.

When Mark’s lips press against Jaebeom’s throat, the voice gets louder.

_Danger!_

He’s not afraid of Mark. He’s afraid of what this means to a werewolf. What it means to be this close to a human’s neck. Jaebeom has seen a beta or an omega bare their neck to an alpha; it’s a sign of submission. He’s seen Mark’s fangs and claws come out when someone gets too close to his neck. Years ago, Jaebeom had made the mistake of getting too close to Mark’s neck during a hug. Burying his face in Mark’s neck seems like a totally normal thing to do. But in that moment, Jaebeom got too close.

It’d been completely on accident— an unthinking and platonic move, but Jaebeom still has the scars of where Mark’s claws ripped into his skin.

Jaebeom sees the animal in Mark’s golden eyes when he blinks. He sees the power in Mark’s stride. He sees the gleam of Mark’s canines in the sunlight. Typically, Jaebeom doesn’t fear any of this. Now, for a split second, he doubts.

 _Danger_ —

The hand that’s thrown over Jaebeom’s stomach glides over to his side. Mark’s hand wraps around his waist. It’s firm. Jaebeom gets choked up, he knows he can’t escape. But at the same time, he knows Mark’s not going to hurt him.

That’s not what this fear is. It’s not fear of Mark’s strength. He’s afraid of what this means.

Mark’s hand hold him, presses a bit into where the scar is. He tips his nose, just faintly running it along Jaebeom’s jawline, right to the dip. Jaebeom closes his eyes and leans his head back against the headboard.

Then he tips his head to the side. Forgets all the readings about how this is a sign of submission.

“I’m sorry.” Mark mumbles. His nose grazes along Jaebeom’s earlobe. He traces the gold hoops with his nose, gold because Jaebeom doesn’t wear silver for him, and his bottom lip touches Jaebeoms neck.

Mark’s skin is so soft, so warm, and his pretty pink lips press against Jaebeom’s neck. Jaebeom takes in a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed, and guilty, and ready to lean to the side, to capture Mark’s lips, to run his tongue over those pretty white teeth, and let this happen.

He gets lost here, in the blurred sensations of Mark’s lips on his neck.

He breathes in the scent of honey and apple, so distinctly Mark, so distinctly home, mixed with something else. Something spicy and warm.

Jaebeom closes his eyes, thinking of Mark’s lips and teeth, trying to breathe him in.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

The environmental club had strongly advised against it, even made a petition, but Roseville High School released eighty-two balloons into the sky anyway, one for each senior.

Jaebeom threw his cap into the air with a yell, letting high school drama fly away with his balloon. He’ll forget what he wrote on it in a few years and he’ll never go back to the school to relieve those memories, but he’ll never forget the way his heart jumped into his throat when he opened his eyes and saw Mark pushing through the crowd to come up to him. Just like everyone else, Jaebeom got used to seeing Mark’s wide smile filled with canines that were bigger than the average. It just made sense at that point. That was Mark Tuan; shy but attentive, charming but mysterious, with a smile that initially alarmed, but was easy to warm up to.

Mark threw his hands in the air with a shout. “We did it! We graduated!”

“I can’t wait to never again sit through Mrs. Wilson’s bio lab.”

“You mean you can’t to never again _sleep_ through Mrs. Wilson’s bio lab.” Mark rolled his eyes, reaching over to link their arms and pull them so their bodies touched, even though it’d been a hot and muggy day.

True, he couldn’t argue with that. “Let’s go get food?”

Jaebeom briefly thought of the rumor that circled during the beginning of the year; that the two of them were a couple. They denied it. But Jaebeom had grown used to Mark being at his side, hands always floating around him. He learned to ignore the way Dorinne watched them when he went over. He can only imagine what his classmates must've thought when he reached down and took Mark's hand into his.

Lara found them before they could escape, and pulled them back towards the bleachers. They exchanged goodbye’s and hugs with other students and families, and a few kids they might’ve considered to be friends. Mark toed off his shoes and walked through the grass barefoot, a weird habit that Jaebeom didn't even blink at anymore.

Jaebeom smiled for the photos, threw his hands in the air for one, and hooked an arm around Mark for another. He felt heat through their wool gowns, assumed it was the sun, and grinned like an idiot when Mark cuddled into his side. Jaebeom grew bigger than Mark during junior year; his shoulders widened, Mark had to look up at him now, they no longer shared clothes, but even being larger than Mark, Jaebeom didn’t feel bigger than Mark. He only looked it. Even with Mark’s bony shoulder pressed into his chest, the grip Mark had on Jaebeom’s waist was too firm. Too big.

They snuck away, making a break for it when Dorinne turned to talk to Lara. Jaebeom liked that, running with his hand around Mark’s, his laughter trailing behind as they ducked through students and crying parents. Jaebeom wasn’t sure why he ran like that, like he wanted to run away with Mark. Anywhere. Far away.

Mark parked on the other side of school, away from most of the chaos. His yellow mustang, cool and boxy and from the early 90’s, was their ticket away from all of this for the last time.

The feeling of being high, of floating away like the balloon, of running free with Mark across the high school’s fields, brought out a weightlessness, a carelessness, that threw Jaebeom’s inhibitions out the door. He embraced his feelings for Mark. He thought maybe, he could act on them. He felt restless and confident, ready to bound into the future, into college, with too much teenage ambition. He would take all this on with Mark by his side. He wanted to ask Mark to be his boyfriend.

There’d be no better time to do it than that moment.

Jaebeom reached for Mark, stepped into his bubble and wrapped two arms around his waist and leaned in. That type of touch should be nothing, hugs a commonality between them, but Jaebeom needed to express something else with this hug. He ducked down and pressed his face into the crook of Mark’s neck and held on tight. He opened his mouth to speak.

Just as fast as his confidence flooded in, pain replaced it. Jaebeom blinked and jerked, gasped, trying to breathe in and out at the same time, all his muscles spasming at the same time and he fell back into the car behind them, disoriented and bewildered, hands flying up to his side where it hurt, in the flesh of his hipbone, where his blood started to seep through his shirt.

And Mark was nowhere to be seen.

In his place stood a monster, eyes glowing, teeth and lower jaw jutted out, his cheekbones high, less human, nose wider and Jaebeom thought—

 _Wolf_ —

at the claws, the tense stance, the distorted features of Mark’s —

That’s Mark.

His teeth— too large. Too unreal.

His hands— his nails, thick and unnatural, pointed and curled.

Jaebeom’s gaze flickered up to Mark’s face, everything set… normally. His hands looked… normal. Like the angry canines and monstrous hands had been an illusion, a trick of the summer heat.

Blood, fresh blood dripped from Mark’s fingers. Panic and fear drowned his golden, glowing eyes, and Jaebeom felt pain. Hot, angry, flaring pain and it trickled down his leg, across his abdomen.

“I’m…” Mark stepped closer, hands in the air. “I’m sorry. Jaebeom…”

Jaebeom stumbled to the side the car behind him blocking his escape, pain clogged up his senses. Mark…

He looked down at the holes in his shirt, the blood that dripped and soaked his jeans.

Mark _clawed_ him.

“I’m so sorry, I’m —”

Jaebeom spun and almost tripped own his own feet. He yanked the gown back on to cover the blood, hiding it from his own eyes and found his mother’s car parked in the guest lot. She turned away from Dorinne, who froze and looked like she knew exactly what was happening.

Jaebeom looked at her, choked on his words. “I… I walked into…” He swallowed, his hands trembled in pain and confusion. “I think I need stitches.”

As blood dripped from his side, as Jaebeom replays the image of Mark in front of him, blood dripping from his hand, Jaebeom’s track on reality unhinged.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

At some late or early hour in the morning, with the room still pitch black, Jaebeom wakes to the echo of a wolf’s howl. He snaps up in bed, lunging towards the dresser where he keeps a knife and gun.

Belatedly, he realizes Mark’s body hadn’t been in the way.

He slumps against the sheets. Apples, honey and spice.

Then a paw presses into his back.

Jaebeom lifts his head and glances over his shoulder. He only sees the outline silhouette of a really huge dog.

“I hate you.” He mumbles.

Mark yips, then pounces with his two front paws right against the center of Jaebeom’s back. Jaebeom heaves, whiplashed.

“I really fuckin’ hate you.” He gasps, trying to fill his lungs and body back up with oxygen while trying to move fast enough so Mark doesn’t whack the air out of him again. He moves to the window, unlocking it and sliding it up. Mark’s at his side, waiting to be let out.

“God.” Jaebeom’s cranky from being woken up so rudely. “Opposable thumbs are a blessing. Don’t you miss them already?” Before he opens the screen he turns with both hands in front of Mark’s snout. A mouth that big could bite off all his fingers with a snap. But Jaebeom waggles his thumbs in Mark’s face.

The funniest part of Mark being a wolf is the expression in his eyes. It’s exemplified now that he can’t use words, and looks comical and cartoonish on such a massive creature.

Without preamble, Mark lunges forward. He smacks his head into Jaebeom’s chest, and Jaebeom stumbles back, gasping for air, the room spinning.

“Watch me do a favor for you now,” He gasps for air, “you thumbless mutt.”

Mark rolls his eyes, then moves back on his haunches, bracing for—

“No!” Jaebeom waves his hands in the air. “Fuck, you’re such an asshole. If we had to pay for a whole new window it’d be coming out of _your_ stash.”

He slides the screen open and Mark rushes out, leaving a cloud of fur in his wake for Jaebeom to choke on.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Jackson answers the door in his human form. It confuses Jaebeom.

“What’s up?” Jackson steps aside to let the human pass through, and all of Jaebeom’s questions die on his tongue. Sprawled out across the floor of the room is the answer to what’s been nagging at him for the past twenty-four hours. Here’s Mark, lying curled up in a ball by the foot of the bed.

“Yeah,” Jackson picks up on what’s happening. “He ran with us the past two nights. I’m sorry you worried…” Jaebeom would argue that, but he knows that Jackson can smell it, whatever worry might smell like.

“I kind of figured he was with you guys.”

“When was the last time he ran with other wolves?”

Jaebeom looks at Jackson. “What?”

“When was the last time he got to run? It’s a normal pack thing. You can tell he’s really missed it, you know? He was so excited…” Jackson trails off, but Jaebeom’s not listening.

 _A normal pack thing_.

Jaebeom can’t be his pack.

“I’m going to check out that factory.”

Thankfully, Jackson’s one of those modern alphas that doesn’t get offended when he’s cut off. Jaebeom has seen what happens when pack members interrupt an alpha. Mark’s parents were good, loving leaders, but left scars on their pack if anyone stepped out of line. Jackson looks concerned instead of angry.

Mark lifts his head, blinking up at Jaebeom. He whips his tail out in a sort of half-wag, then is up on all fours, trotting over. He pushes his face against Jaebeom’s chest, gentle. He nuzzles there, and Jackson grins as the other wolves stir and wake.

“Awww, he’s happy to see you.”

Mark just whines, and Jaebeom can’t stay mad at him. Not when he’s like this. So he reaches up to stroke behind one of Mark’s ears. His fur is thick and easy to run fingers through. He likes it there even when he’s human.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

When standing full height, Mark’s ears reach Jaebeom’s shoulders. Mark’s fur is a dark, chocolatey brown, thick down his back and tail, while it fades out to a beautiful motley of caramels and white down to his massive paws. Jinyoung is all sleek and black, Youngjae is a pretty mix of dusty grey and blond. It reminds Jaebeom of a husky. He knows better than to say that out loud.

Suzy and Jia are also impressive in size. Jia is speckled grey, and Suzy’s light, but not nearly as light as Youngjae.

Maybe he’s biased, but even when looking into the stunning blues of Jia’s eyes, sharply outlined with black fur, Mark’s the most beautiful. He’d say majestic, but Mark says it’s an overused term and “doesn’t feel special.” He can’t help running his hands over Mark’s massive shoulders, mesmerized by the way the colors fade into each other so prettily.

His truck can’t carry the weight of five full-grown wolves, so they walk it. They meet Bambam and Yugyeom halfway, and Yugyeom flails his arms like an excited child.

“You’re all so beautiful!”

Bambam wears a parka, a floppy hat, sunglasses, and has a scarf wrapped up around his nose and mouth. It’s a chilly, snowy day. The first snow of the season is supposed to happen tonight, and the air is already biting and promising, so he looks properly dressed. Even if that’s a sunhat on his head.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment.” His voice is muffled by the scarf.

“But the best part of the day to get a buncha evil vampires is— ” Jackson stops, then gets it, by the way Bambam glares at him. “You mean dragging _you_ out during the day. Got’cha.”

Yugyeom moves close to Bambam and wraps two arms around his waist, the two of them waddling down the stretch of road. Jaebeom watches how cozy they look, then turns towards Mark. They exchange glances. He’s definitely never heard of any account of a relationship between vampire and human. He sympathizes though.

When they reach the factory, they meet up out front. It’s off a side road, the road unpaved and long unused with weeds growing where there used to be a driveway.

“Those are new.” Jackson gestures towards where Jia and Mark are sniffing, where the ground is packed with various tire tracks. Jinyoung is near the front entrance, him and Youngjae sniffing the door. Jackson tells them the scents are fresh.

Careful not to touch anything, Jaebeom slides on a pair of gloves and gives the front door a gentle push before shoving it open all the way.

The factory is a huge, open space, with a very high ceiling and old, what was once expensive machinery, left to rust. The belts are dusty and lined with paw prints, probably raccoons and other small animals. It’s musty and dry inside. The sunlight comes in filtered and uneven through smashed or dirty windows.

Jackson blinks, faltering back a few steps to cover his nose while the wolves step in and scatter throughout the open space. He coughs, shakes it off. It’s a full body-action, and then he shifts.

As an alpha he can control his shifts at will. The best Mark can do when it’s not a full moon is extend his features; pronouncing his cheekbones, his nose and ears to make him resemble an inhuman creature, but remains in human form. It’s not as exaggerated as Hollywood, but still terrifying and difficult to comprehend.

The sounds of crunching, rearranging bones echoes through the empty walls of the hollow building. Jackson’s bones break during his shift, and Jaebeom looks away, blocking out the sound of his whimpers. He’s held Mark through a few of his own shifts, whenever Mark is okay with him being close enough, and knows that it gets easier, but remains painful.

Yugyeom has lost all color, white as a sheet when Jaebeom turns back around, and he’s clenching on Bambam’s jacket. Bambam rubs his friend’s back, and turns to whisper something. Yugyeom blinks and steps away, but still looks horror-stricken.

He’s a first timer. He’s in over his head. Jaebeom wants to shield him from the world.

Mark yips from across the space but Jaebeom moves towards Yugyeom, taking his elbow in a grip that’s not too rough, and leads him. Bambam has shed his hat and sunglasses in here, and looks thankful for Jaebeom’s help.

Down a rickety flight of stairs, and the group finds the wolves in an old break room. There's a long table pushed up against the far wall, no windows to bring in natural light, and a line of couches pushed up against another wall. Bambam goes through the cabinets with one hand, keeping one arm curled around Yugyeom’s side.

Mark head butts Jaebeom in his back, closes his eyes when he’s scratched, and gestures towards Yugyeom with his wet nose, a question in his eyes.

“He saw Jackson shift.” Jaebeom whispers.

Jackson is a white wolf. And he’s bigger than the others. The fur around his neck is thicker and his paws are heavier. He looks majestic. Jaebeom thinks Jackson would like the word.

Against the last wall is a row of lockers and benches. Bambam moves to open one while the wolves gather information with their noses. Jaebeom takes photos with a camera. His flip phone isn’t equipped to handle this.

Bambam swings the door open and yells, shoving Yugyeom back and trying to cover his eyes but they trip on each other, narrowly avoiding the body that falls out of a locker.

She’s been dead long enough that the smell of decay makes Jaebeom’s stomach lurch. This is the part that doesn’t get easier, no matter how many years it’s been. He takes another step back to steady himself. By the time he turns back around Youngjae and Jia are leading Yugyeom away, letting him grip their fur in white-knuckled grasps, and Bambam steps over the body, pressing his fingers to the inside of the lockers.

“It’s lined with silver. That’s why they couldn’t smell anything.”

Jaebeom gets closer to the body. Her eyes are still open and glassy. Her hair is tangled and her mouth is open, maggots falling out. Decomposition has eaten away her body, and her body’s already leaking, the smell only getting worse as they get closer.

Her cheekbones are dry, and Jaebeom leans over to inspect her neck, finding puncture wounds. He doesn’t mean to look up at Bambam, but he does. Bambam stares back at him.

“We have to put her back.”

Jaebeom apologizes to her and murmurs a small prayer. Bambam remains quiet and unmoving, giving Jaebeom a moment to do what he needs to do. He pulls plastic gloves out of his backpack only when Jaebeom is ready, and they swap their winter gloves for those. The girl’s head falls back with a snap as they lift her off the ground, patches of hair falls off her scalp. There’s no weight to her. She’s easy to lift.

With one last apology, Jaebeom avoids her unmoving gaze as he shuts the locker door.

Jaebeom IDs her as one of the missing teens in the local paper from two weeks back. He sends copies to the rest of the team, and flops into bed.

No matter how hard he scrubbed himself in the shower, he feels gross.

Mark lies on his side, and Jaebeom buries his face in the softness of Mark’s fur.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

When the laptop screen dimmed and reflected back, Jaebeom ended up staring at his own tired expression. He looked more tired, eyes darkened and cheekbones hollowed, than yesterday. His shirt kept catching on the stitches in his side, the claw marks still healing. He still had nightmares of Mark’s face. Still dreamt of drowning in the red that soaked his shirt, his hands—

“Sweetheart?”

Jaebeom sat up, back cracking as he finally shifted out of the slumped position he’d been sitting for too long in. Lara smiled at him from the doorway, and knocked anyway.

“Can we talk?”

She had said the same thing at the hospital, voice tight and eyes stern, right before she said, “I told them it was a dog bite.”

Jaebeom nodded, scooted his chair over to the side and waited for her to come sit on his bed. She handed him the book in her hands, a bound leather book that, as Jaebeom flipped through, read like a diary.

“This was where your father and I logged our hunts.” Lara said, watching as her son flipped through it. He didn’t want to read it, not in that moment. Maybe later. He still needed time. It’d only been a week or so since the incident, and while he can’t find it in himself to be angry, or feel betrayed, that his mother never told him about her and his father’s past as hunters. He felt guilty that she carried the burden by herself for eighteen years. He couldn’t blame her.

“It’s crazy…” Jaebeom dropped the book onto his desk, then glanced back out the window. He had a clear view of the Tuan’s house from his bedroom window. He could see the living room light on, the second-story window— Joey’s bedroom, had the light off. Jaebeom knew the Tuan’s well enough to know it was dinner time, and Joey was probably out bike riding with his friends. Mark would’ve been with Jaebeom, if Jaebeom weren’t actively ignoring him.

“I know it’s hard to believe all this stuff.” Lara started, leaning forward to get closer to Jaebeom. “But whatever questions you have, you know you can ask me. You know… you can ask Mark, too.”

Jaebeom shrugged. Stared back at the Tuan’s yard. “I don’t know when I’m gonna be ready to talk to him again, mom.”

Lara waited a moment, seemed to choose her words. “I can’t say I’ve ever had a crush on a werewolf...” Jaebeom whipped around to stare at her, eyes wide. “But werewolves aren’t as scary as I know you’re probably thinking they are.”

Those teeth, those claws, those glowing eyes. How could she say Mark’s not scary?

“I don’t have a crush on him.” Jaebeom said instead, face turning red and betraying his denial.

Lara laughed, “Uh-huh,” Didn’t believe him. “Jaebeom. Sweetheart. You’re so obvious.” Her hand comes back to pat at the back of his head. “You know I love you, no matter who you love.”

The undercurrent of her words swept Jaebeom right off his feet. His head spun, and he needed a moment to just gape at her, let it all soak in.

“I said,” Lara smiled, gave him a little shake until he smiled, too. “That I love you.”

“Love you, too, mom.”

She stood up, patted down her thighs. Ever since he found out that she’d been a hunter, spent a lifetime chasing monsters, Jaebeom saw his mother in a different light. Nothing about her past made her any less motherly and sometimes lame, but the way she walked, the way she peeked around the corners and paused when entering a room, made sense.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza.”

Lara rolled her eyes. “Of course you want pizza.”

“The meaty one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She made her way towards the door, “We know you like meat.”

Jaebeom wailed with embarrassment.

Later that night, while Jaebeom had still been stubbornly burying himself under his blankets, still embarrassed by his mom’s comment, Lara went and unburied him from the bed. She pulled him outside, the porch light off with the full moon glossing everything in a pretty hue.

“Mom, what are we doing?”

A wolf sat in the grass, ears drooped. One look at its’ face and—

“Mark?”

Lara patted Jaebeom on the shoulder. “You know you don’t have to be afraid of him, right?” And left.

Jaebeom had to stop, really process that the massive wolf sitting in his yard was Mark. He could see it, though, in the wolf’s eyes. He could even see it in the way it sat, it’s head up. Mark did that when he apologized. He looked you in the eyes. And even though the wolf didn’t say a word, Jaebeom could feel the apology through his gaze.

“You know…” Jaebeom wanted to touch, but stood there with his hands like jelly at his sides. Even sitting on his haunches, Mark was huge and eye-level with Jaebeom. “This is weird. This is really fucking weird.”

Jaebeom lifted his hand. Ran it through the thick fur around Mark’s neck, touching his muzzle and running a thumb between his eyes, flattening the fur and tracing the brown markings down his chest.

“You can’t talk like this, huh?”

Mark shakes his huge head, then pushes forward to rub his face against Jaebeom’s.

“Cool. So then. I have a lot to say.” Jaebeom takes Mark’s head in his hands, fingers disappearing into his fur. “And you’re gonna listen.”

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Morning comes with two human arms wrapped around him. Jaebeom blinks through the haze of drowsiness, and is greeted with Mark’s face; the slope of his nose and the plumpness of his lips. He pouts in his sleep.

At some point he’d shifted back, gotten dressed, and climbed into bed without Jaebeom noticing. Either he’s not as light a sleeper as he thought, or Mark’s too good at it. He guesses it’s the latter, and smiles as Mark’s eyes crack open.

“Only three days this time?”

“Yeah.” Mark rolls on his back, one arm still trapped under Jaebeom. He stretches, his spine and bones pop back into place, settling one last time after his shift. The sunlight hits his skin, dewy and soft this early. He glows after a shift. His skin always appears sun-kissed, even in the dead of winter.

“Glad you’re back.”

“Never left.” Mark yawns, then rolls back over to bury his face into Jaebeom’s neck. Jaebeom latches on. Ignores how Mark’s getting more and more used to being this close to his neck.

“You kind of did.”

He feels guilty saying it.

“When?”

“When you left me for two whole days to hang out with the pack.”

Mark shifts away and pulls his arms to his chest. Jaebeom hates that he knows Mark can read him. Can read him well, at that.

“What? We went running. It gets lonely.”

It’s nothing more than the honest truth, and it’s not supposed to burn, not the way it does, sinking in Jaebeom’s chest. If Mark hasn’t proven his friendship and loyalty after roughing it eight years on the road, then there’s nothing more he can do to prove it. Jaebeom’s being unreasonable. He knows he’s being unreasonable. But the heart doesn’t always make sense.

“I’m not enough?”

“You know. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t even remember when was the last time I got to run with a pack! What was I supposed to do when they called me? Stay cooped up in here? I need that— I need the closeness of a pack.”

Jaebeom can’t be his pack.

Who is he to deny what Mark needs? He doesn’t understand what a werewolf needs. Not as a human. He can’t be Mark’s pack. He can’t fill that space. Even if he wants to.

This isn’t the first time Jaebeom has faced his feelings. He’s been aware of them for a long time now, which is safe and smart. He’d tried putting them away after high school, when he immersed himself into the supernatural world, learning and adapting. He learned to suppress his desires and control his heartbeat. Most of the time. He learned to dig this so deep down that it’s just a memory of something that’ll never truly go away.

“Jaebeom.” Mark moves away, creating distance.

 _Shit_.

“Mark, it’s not— I don’t know what I’m saying. I know what you mean.”

“No, Jae, do we need to talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Jae.”

“Honestly.”

With the way his heart has crawled into his throat to shrivel up and get lodged in there, Jaebeom knows that Mark can tell there’s something wrong. Jaebeom can’t control the way his body reacts like this, eyes burning and fingers curling into fists.

Jaebeom is a hunter, traveling with a werewolf. Who said developing feelings was a good idea?

“ _Jaebeom_.”

“Do you plan on leaving?”

Mark’s shoulders sag. His anger seeps away. “I’d never. I’d never leave you.”

“Why won’t you?” There are no okay answers for the question. None that will make Jaebeom feel any less guilty, that is. “Do you pity me? Are you here because you feel bad for me?”

“Jaebeom.” The way Mark’s voice growls, low and deadly and inhuman, makes Jaebeom’s heart stutter. Not out of fear. Not out of love. Like it’s trying to rearrange itself in his chest after he let it get away.

Mark sits up now and Jaebeom moves out of bed, ignoring the rising panic in Mark’s gaze, and the way it shakes in his voice. “Why would I leave now?”

“It would just…” Jaebeom shrugs. He tries not to look over his shoulder as he gets into the bathroom. “It would make sense.”

They don’t really owe each other anything. Mark has a pack. Jaebeom’s home has been abandoned. No one wants to buy a house where a woman had been murdered, and Jaebeom doesn’t want to go back to it.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

They’re trying to get across town, but traffic makes it hard. Bambam drives, Yugyeom and Jinyoung sit in the backseat, and Mark and Jaebeom are sit side by side in the front, an awkward space between them. They drive by hoards of children bundled up and parents trying to keep their kids from rushing across the street and into oncoming traffic.

Yugyeom has an IPhone, like a typical human today, and it beeps, rerouting them through a back route to avoid congestion caused by the Thanksgiving Day parade.

They drive down residential area; small houses with screened front porches and banged up cars in the shallow driveways. The sky is overcast, and the neighborhood looks dreary and poor. Jaebeom looks down at his notes. Jackson said he’d caught the scent of a lot of kids loitering near a park on the other side down town. It’s farther than Marks sense of smell, or any of the other werewolves noses, can reach.

“Do you think we’re— ”

Jaebeom’s thrown, his body whipped against the seatbelt, as another car crashes into them.

He can’t get a hold of himself, nonetheless the situation. His body jerks. He doesn’t know what he’s reaching for. He’s suspended, mid air, oxygen gone in a breath as glass shatters and rains, catching in his ear, crunching under his palm as he presses against the crinkled door, trying to breathe around the crushing sound of bending and scraping metal.

The car hits the curb and rolls.

Jaebeom gasps for air. He can barely breathe, it still feels like the car is spinning, or jarred upside down. His chest hurts, gaping and bleeding— he’s bleeding. He doesn’t know from where, just feels the wetness trail down his arm, and drips from his earlobe, and finally, finally, finally, he breathes in. He sucks in a huge gasp of air, choking and blinking and trying to get his mind upright.

He’s out of the crumpled car, on the grass. He stares up at the grey of the clouds, and just as he’s sitting up, gathering his surroundings, looking for Yugyeom— where’s Yugyeom, he can’t survive an accident, he’s just human, too.

Mark cradles Jaebeom’s face and he smells…

He smells honey and apple.

He smells gasoline and dirt.

He smells blood.

He smells so much blood.

He smells so much blood he can taste it in his mouth, feel it sliding down his throat.

Just as the world filters back in, Jaebeom reaches for Mark’s hold on his face, taking his hands in his and gasps, “Where’s the others? The others?” He reaches out to grip Mark’s arm, to cement in the fact that he’s here, he’s right here, he’s okay and alive and breathing, despite how wet and bloodied his bicep is — _he’s okay._

Jaebeom thinks he remembers Mark lunging to protect Jaebeom. He remembers being cradled. He’s still rattled, but he’s okay. Because Mark wrapped around him to protect him.

Bambam comes over and the coolness of his hand on Jaebeom’s forehead comes like a shock. He looks so concerned that for a split second Jaebeom forgets about the accident. Bambam’s concerned. A vampire is concerned for a human. Jaebeom didn’t get hit hard enough to be imagining it.

Just as Jaebeom manages to stand and breath somewhat normally, assuring Mark he’s okay, looking for the others, a _pop_ cracks through the air.

And then another.

Mark collapses in the dead grass with a howl in pain, cut-off as he bites his lip to silence himself. He holds his side but can’t cover the rush of blood.

Bambam is over him, pulling him to his feet and rushing to snap Jaebeom back into the moment. “C’mon! Let’s go! We gotta go— Jaebeom? _Jaebeom_! Let’s go.”

Mark can barely hold himself up, and it’s only now that Jaebeom become aware of the gash in his thigh, and it’s only with an adrenaline spike that he finds the strength to carry Mark. Jaebeom’s one leg is useless and shaking, and he still bleeds from somewhere else, somewhere on his head, because the blood drips down his forehead and along the bridge of his nose. If he breathes in through his nose, he chokes on blood. If he opens his mouth, he tastes it.

Yugyeom is a few steps ahead of them, supporting Jinyoung. He also suffers a limp, his white sweater coated in flecks of blood and grass and dirt. His eyes reflect wild with panic and confusion. He looks like everything Jaebeom wanted to protect him from.

The motel that Yugyeom and Bambam stay at isn’t too far from the accident, but getting there drains Jaebeom of all his strength. They lost Bambam somewhere, and Suzy and Youngjae are at the motel with blankets and basins already filled with warm water. Jaebeom’s not sure when they were called, but he gratefully passes Mark over to Suzy, and collapses by the front door.

They move to another motel, at some point. Jaebeom’s fuzzy. He hands Youngjae the key to his and Mark’s hotel room and tells him to gather their things. He slumps against Mark in the backseat of a sedan, he thinks it belongs to Jackson, since Jackson drives, he can see the way the streetlights dance over Jackson’s strong shoulders, but Jaebeom doesn’t wake up.

When he does come to and can make out shapes and colors, he realizes this is a different motel. There are two beds and a cot, where Yugyeom sleeps face first in a fluffy pillow, his feet hanging off the edge.

Suzy comes over, and her sweet smile makes Jaebeom feel warm. She puts a hand to his forehead, then brushes his hair from his face. “Do you want a shower?”

“Is that even a suggestion?”

At least Suzy looks a little apologetic. “Not really.”

Jaebeom finds the bathroom and smiles when Jia puts a hand on his shoulder, where she gives him a comforting squeeze.

Underneath the scalding hot water, he breathes again. His nose unclogs and his throat relaxes. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater left behind for him when he finishes.

He’s not too sure how long he’s been out, but his muscles are sore, and he has a nasty bruise painted into his thigh, along the wound that’s been cleaned up.

“Jackson and Youngjae went to get some food.” Jia says as Jaebeom gets back into bed, curling up against Mark. Mark stirs in his sleep, and slumps against Jaebeom’s chest. Jaebeom doesn’t notice how Suzy watches them embrace.

Jinyoung sleeps on the other side of Mark, his handsome face bruised around his mouth. Jaebeom can see the faded marks of cuts running up his forearm. He had been the one to save Yugyeom in the backseat. While Mark threw himself to cover Jaebeom, Jinyoung saved Yugyeom, and Bambam survived on his own. A car crash isn’t enough to rattle a vampire or a werewolf to not even a fraction of the degree it rattles a human. What hurt Mark and Jinyoung the most were the silver bullets fired at them.

“We’ll wait until everyone shows back up to talk about it.” Suzy says.

This room might be one of the biggest motel rooms Jaebeom’s ever been in, even though it’s still not that spacious and becomes too cramped with too many of them in it. There’s a small kitchenette in the corner, where Bambam pours hot water into a mug. He takes the tea over to Yugyeom, sitting on the floor and nudging him to open his eyes.

Yugyeom looks tired, his under eyes dark and his lips pale. But the way his lips curl when he sees Bambam with the tea brings more energy back into his expression. He sits up and takes the drink, and Bambam moves to adjust the blanket so he’s covered and warm.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

“Hunters came after you guys.” Jackson says, handing out plates of rice and chicken. It smells so good, and Jaebeom only recently realized how hungry he’d been. Mark is leaning against him, eyes droopy with sleep, and doesn’t move away when he receives his plate of food. Not that Jaebeom wants him to.

“I could tell something was up with the silver bullets.” Jinyoung’s sitting up, even though he winces when he bends forward to take the food. Suzy apologizes and runs a hand through his hair.

Jackson stands at the foot of the bed in his signature stance, feet planted shoulder width apart, with his broad biceps crossed over his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

They exchange a long glance at each other, then Jackson bends forward to clasp his hand around Jinyoung’s ankles through the comforter. Apologies flash through his eyes, and Jinyoung offers him a small smile. Jaebeom wonders if that’s a pack thing. Even though Jackson doesn’t touch the others like this.

“It’ll take you a few days to heal up, but you’ll be better in no time.” Jia says, ignoring how her alpha runs his hand over the beta’s leg. Jackson kneels on the bed and lets her take over while he keeps his hand on Jinyoung’s knee.

“It might be our fault.” Jaebeom hates this group thing. This is why he doesn’t do team ups.

“You’re being chased?” Suzy looks to her alpha with a questioning look, then back to Jaebeom. “But you’re a human.”

“Hunters don’t hunt humans.” Youngjae shakes his head, disbelieving. “There’s no way.”

“We pissed one off. Now he has friends.” Jaebeom runs a hand through Mark’s hair, grounding himself. It’s not exactly story time. They shouldn’t of stayed in town. They should've left Yugyeom and Bambam to handle it.

“We’ll figure it out.” Jackson gives Jaebeom a small smile.

 _They’ll what now_. Jaebeom thought, for sure, Jackson would’ve abandoned them for putting his pack in danger.

Jackson keeps it moving forward with more bad news. The accident threw them off course and has the cops on their tail. They don’t know where to look next, or how to go about it without attracting too much attention. The only good news is that the factory had been a good lead, because the girl’s body is proof that the clan had been there. Jackson grins over his shoulder, giving Jaebeom a thumbs up. The factory had originally been his and Mark’s idea, anyway.

Bambam wonders aloud if they should let the cops in on an anonymous tip about the girls’ body.

“No.” Jackson shakes his head. “They’re already looking for the missing kids. If they know that they’re dead, well, it’d be even worse for us. We have to find the clan.”

“I just feel bad that she’s shoved in a locker.” Yugyeom says from the couch. Bambam drapes another blanket over him, as if he were cold in a room with the heat cranked up.

They decide to take it easy for a few days and jump between motels for the two werewolves to heal up, for Jaebeom’s limp to go away, and because Yugyeom needs a few days for the bruises up and down his side.

Youngjae turns on the television on the other side of the third motel they stay at, and turns the volume down. He curls up with Suzy, while Jia goes to wash off the dishes, and Jackson stays to sit next to Jinyoung and whisper to him. Yugyeom lies on the couch with Bambam hovering over him for a few minutes to pet his hair. While everyone gets settled, Mark throws a leg over Jaebeom’s with a quiet groan in pain. Jaebeom waits while he settles, closes his eyes when Mark presses his face into Jaebeom’s neck, and listens to the faint chatter of a 80’s sitcom play on the television. He doesn’t know how long he sits there.

Eventually, Jackson gets up. He eyes the intimate position between the werewolf and human, offers a tired smile.

Once he’s across the room and seated on the couch, Jaebeom switches his gaze to Jinyoung. Jinyoung stares at him, and just like the first time they met, he isn’t shy that he got caught staring.

“So, the alpha, huh?” Jaebeom says it quietly, but he sees the way Jackson looks towards them. If any other werewolf, or the vampire, hear what he says, they don’t even spare a glance.

Despite being beat and exhausted, Jinyoung always looks like he has the upper hand. “So, a werewolf, huh?”

Jaebeom’s arm is wrapped around Mark’s shoulders, holding him in place against his chest. He holds on a little tighter and tries to tell Jinyoung to shut the fuck up with just his gaze.

“He’s sleeping. It’s fine.The herbs have him loopy.”

“I just… don’t want him to know.”

Jinyoung nods slowly. “Even though you two reek of each other?”

“What?”

“You smell claimed.” Jinyoung tips his head back and sniffs, like he’s trying to prove a point.

Jaebeom tries to tell his heart to sit still. “Yeah, well, I’m sure if I had a nose like yours, I’d smell Jackson all over you.”

“Hm,” Jinyoung leans back against the pillows. “That’d be nice. I’d like to be marked, though.”

Always being the one that’s conscious of his surroundings, Jaebeom finds his pack weird and abnormal. He wants to delve into this. For safety reasons.

“No offense, but aren’t alphas supposed to be with omegas?”

Just when Jaebeom thinks he’s getting in the lead, Jinyoung’s lips spread in a smile that’s full of mirth. “I am an omega.”

If Mark weren’t sleeping against his chest, Jaebeom would’ve shot up. He can’t help it when he looks at Jinyoung, takes in the expanse of his chest, and the ridges of his biceps. That’s an Adam’s apple in his throat. “I’m sorry, I assumed you’re a male.”

“I am.” Jinyoung responds whimsically.

“But I thought…” Jaebeom reminds himself to keep his voice down. “I thought males couldn’t be omegas. Because… they can’t carry children.”

“It’s very rare.” Jinyoung says with a wave of his hand. “It’s super rare. Most male omegas are killed by their pack as soon as they present. I was lucky, my pack only kicked me out. Jackson found me before I went insane.”

Jaebeom glances down at the werewolf dozing against him. He knows being kicked out a pack would lead to insanity, and he can’t help it when he thinks of how Mark left his own. He knows that the black wolf notices.

“But you know, just like a lot of things, it’s not black and white.”

Their eyes meet again, and Jaebeom can’t imagine how personal this must be for Jinyoung. How can he be so okay with sharing?

“Male omegas very much exist, but because we’re such a small part of the population, most werewolves don’t understand us, or think that we have to be alpha or beta, and assume us to be abnormal. We’re here, though. We’re very much here. And there’s nothing wrong with me.”

Jaebeom stares at him. He’s never heard of male omegas before. It’s hard to comprehend, but at the same time, isn’t. He accepts Jinyoung as Jinyoung, and not as a different. Just as normal as it is to be alpha or beta, it’s normal to be a male omega, too.

“So you and Jackson…?”

“Are holding off.”

“But you’ve imprinted?”

Now it looks like Jaebeom has the upper hand. Jinyoung’s lip part in surprise and his eyebrows hike behind his bangs. “You know what imprinting is?”

“Yeah, like, I don’t know how it works, but basically it’s when your body just... _knows_ your mate, right? Like a werewolf version of soulmates? I’ve seen how you and Jackson are so in tune with each other, moreso than the other pack members, and that’s usually a sign of imprinting.”

Jinyoung settles against the pillows. “You sure know a lot about werewolves.”

“I lived with the Tuan pack —”

“Tuan pack?”

“— yeah, Mark’s pack, for years.”

“You lived with Mark’s pack?”

“Yeah?”

“ _Lived_?”

“Yes, his parents took me in. After my mother died.”

Jinyoung’s impression remains frozen on shock. “You two have known each other a long time, huh?”

“Over ten years.”

“So. Do you know what happens after we imprint?”

“Something about biting.” Jaebeom ignores how Mark’s mouth is so close to where he’s seen so many mate marks.

“There’s a whole period of courting, too. Lots of doting, and affection, and making sure that the feeling is mutual. You don’t just jump into biting and mating. You have to love each other, and figure out your harmony. This is a forever thing. And forever is a long time.”

Jaebeom doesn’t know what to say to that. He stares at Jinyoung, and the longer and longer Jinyoung’s expressions remains on surprise, the more nervous he gets. He doesn’t know how they ended up here, talking about mates and forever and he’s getting sick of it. He’s scared for the day Mark imprints on another werewolf. He doesn’t know what he’ll do without Mark.

He realizes his hand is pushing through Mark’s brunet locks. He doesn’t stop petting Mark though. He should’ve never let Mark get this close to him. It’s going to hurt a lot more than anything he's experienced when Mark leaves.

“Do you know one of the ways that other wolves know when others are mates? Even before the bite?”

“How?”

“They reek of each other.”

Jaebeom turns away from Jinyoung’s soft expression.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

With this life, with hours spent in the same car, days spent just the two of them in a motel room, or in a sleeping bag in the woods, or in cramped spaces for way too long, there’s no room left for shame between Jaebeom and Mark. They know each other’s nasty habits, or what the other smells like when they haven’t showered for days. Jaebeom knows what Mark’s like when he hasn’t gotten off in too long, which should probably be too too much knowledge between two friends, but that comes along with the cost of not having their own personal space. Usually, They find relief in the shower, since they mostly share a bed in motel rooms, and Mark has a sensitive nose, and the least they can do is jerk off somewhere where it’s easier to mask and clean. Jaebeom does it as fast as he can when Mark goes out on a hunt.

But it’s been way too many days, verging on weeks, and being in a motel with seven others makes Jaebeom uneasy. He does his best to think of other things— the smell of mold, the sight of a shifters shedded skin, the way a person’s eyes roll back into their heads and their hands curl during an exorcism— anything to keep the creeping edge off. But sleeping in a bed that’s so strongly scented of Mark, scented stronger than usual since he’s been lying in it for three days straight, the two of them pressed together intimately with Mark clinging to Jaebeom in his drugged state, does something to Jaebeom in his unconscious.

He wakes up on his stomach, with Mark draped over his shoulders, a leg over his lower back, and Jaebeom’s morning wood pressed into the mattress. His first concern isn’t Mark, it’s everyone else, and the werewolves with noses of, well, werewolves, that would undoubtedly smell his arousal. He doesn’t want to think about what that smells like, and if it’s different from the smell of a room during the morning after sex.

This isn’t the first time Jaebeom and Mark have woken up like this. Usually, one of them moves away. Mark leaves if he’s the first to wake, or Jaebeom will go straight to the shower. But Mark continues sleeping undisturbed, must be the tea Suzy served him and Jinyoung last night. Except, the room is empty. The silence eerie after days of being alive with a group of supernaturals sharing the room.

Trying to execute a perfect getaway to find reprieve in the bathroom for his problem that won’t go away, Jaebeom tries to slink out from under Mark without disturbing him, only to be halted by a hand on his hip.

Just as he’s about to mumble an apology, Jaebeom gets rolled over on his side. He tries to dip his hips towards the mattress, doing his very best to be level-headed about this right now, telling himself that Mark’s hand on his hip doesn’t mean anything. When he glances curiously over his shoulder, he’s met with Mark’s feral gaze; his eyes bright and honey, his jaw tight and tense. His grip tightens, and Jaebeom’s heart stutters.

“You smell like Jinyoung.”

The curtains are closed, filtering the sunlight, but it still comes in softly and warmly. It’s bright enough that Jaebeom can see all the details of Mark’s face, each individual eyelash, the smatter of red that cracks through the honey of his eyes —

_Wait._

Jaebeom’s never seen red before.

Being around the supernatural has clearly altered his take on reality, because he should not find that to be hot. Mark looks more feral, more werewolf than human. He opens his mouth, and Jaebeom catches the glimpse of his elongated fangs.

This is where the human, rationale part of his brain catches up.

_This is bad!_

“What do you mean, ‘smell like Jinyoung?’” He doesn’t doubt it, since they’ve been sharing a bed with the other wounded werewolf. But aside from some muted, woodsy smell he’s not sure is from the outdoors or Jinyoung, Jaebeom doesn’t smell anything different. It’s honey, apples and spice.

The way Mark’s grip on Jaebeom’s hip tells him he needs to address this. Now.

But before he can do that, Mark is moving forward, pressing his face right between Jaebeom’s shoulder blades and inhaling.

“I can’t have that.”

“You can’t — _what_?”

Mark presses harder and Jaebeom arches, beyond confused. The hand on his hip spreads open, pressing hard and Jaebeom feels that grip in his pelvic bone. He can’t move. Mark’s hand won’t budge when Jaebeom tugs on his wrist. Shit.

He’s rolled over like a rag doll and Mark swings a leg over him, sitting on his stomach, on his lower abdomen. Jaebeom can’t control the way his heart races and blood pumps hot through his system. Just a little further back, and Mark would be sitting on Jaebeom’s half-hard dick and Jaebeom’s certain he wouldn’t be able to handle that.

Mark’s hands reach for the hem of his shirt, and pulls up. Jaebeom’s whole body runs hot and he scrambles to grab Mark’s arms.

“What the _fuck_ —”

Mark stops, but not long enough for Jaebeom to even try and grab a tail of understanding of what’s happening right now. Mark’s hot hands spread out over Jaebeom’s belly, and then run up his stomach, over his chest, pressing on Jaebeom’s nipples and he jerks, unaware that he’s sensitive there until this _very_ moment.

There’s no use in moving. Jaebeom’s not sure he can, anyway. He’s frozen in his spot, staring up at Mark without blinking. His heart does it’s best to beat right the hell out of his ribcage, and his brain is useless, melting in his skull. His whole body tenses when Mark dips forward, pressing his face into Jaebeom’s sternum.

Jaebeom’s heart is well on its’ way to heart attack.

And then Mark stills, the silence of the room buzzes in Jaebeom’s ears.

“I’m gonna fix that.” Mark says, then nuzzles Jaebeom. Rubs his face into Jaebeom’s chest, sitting on his stomach, holding him down by his arms. He moves up, rubbing his face too close to Jaebeom’s armpit, the into the bed of his elbow, and runs his nose along Jaebeom’s collarbones. His breath fans out over all the uncovered patches of skin, and goosebumps dance, following Mark’s odd nuzzling.

When he lifts his hips and crawls back, only narrowly avoiding Jaebeom’s now-hard dick (and Jaebeom doesn’t know what he wants, at this point, if would’ve wanted that contact or not) Mark’s hands move from Jaebeom’s arms to his sides, pinning him down. Not that Jaebeom’s going anywhere, anyway.

He continues rubbing his face down Jaebeom’s side and gets way too close to the waistband of his sleep pants. Jaebeom jerks and squeezes his eyes shut, wondering if this is some kind of weird wet dream and maybe Mark will go down on him. Maybe he should just let this happen since it’s a dream, anyway.

Mark moves back up, and then back down. Jaebeom’s shirt had ridden up during the ministrations, so Mark pauses above exposed skin, right on Jaebeom’s hipbone. Mark’s bottom lip catches the waistband, and his breath makes Jaebeom tingle under his skin, all the way down to his dick. He just wants to reach down and push Mark a little lower. He wants to see Mark take his dick in his mouth, until his pretty lips are swollen and red and his beautiful honey eyes are full of tears. Jaebeom wants Mark _wrecked_.

Jaebeom pants, letting his mind run wild with Mark’s mouth so, so close to his dick. With his hot hands against his sides. Jaebeom throbs with need, and he’s hazy, like the sunlight through the curtains.

“That’s much better.” Mark opens his eyes and looks up, straightening up and staring at Jaebeom through his lashes.

Fuck, he’s so beautiful.

There’s no stopping the way Jaebeom reaches over, carding his fingers through Mark’s sleep-tousled hair, rubbing his thumb against the softness of his shaved sides, fingers tangling in the longer lengths. Mark closes his eyes when Jaebeom props up on one elbow to reach for his jaw and cup his face. Mark nuzzles against Jaebeom’s palm, while his hands slide down. They move to rest on Jaebeom’s thighs, Mark’s thumbs pressing dangerously close to Jaebeom’s inner thigh.

So Jaebeom tests the waters. He’s less confused now, not thinking straight, with all the blood flow going to his dick, and spreads his legs. He does it slow, dragging his heels against the sheets and bending at the knees. That prompts Mark, who cups Jaebeom’s thighs, and moves lower.

"Mark..."

Jaebeom chokes when Mark’s lips finally finally _finally_ press against his dick.

At first he takes it slow. He presses his face against the fabric and mouths at Jaebeom’s cock. That’s all he does for a moment, slow, torturous teasings with his lips that has Jaebeom gasping for air. He tangles both hands in Mark’s hair and tugs, and Mark groans. He tightens his grip on Jaebeom’s sides so hard there’s going to be bruises later and there’s nothing Jaebeom wants more; to be marked and scarred by Mark’s rough hands and big teeth.

He undulates his hips and Mark smirks against his dick. Jaebeom has to reach down to adjust himself, pull him so he’s flat on his belly and the head of his erection held by the waistband. Mark uses his mouth to pull Jaebeom’s pants down and the moment his tongue touches the tip that peeks out of Jaebeom’s pants, Jaebeom bucks his hips and groans. Loud.

“More.” He whimpers, screwing his eyes shut and groaning when Mark’s tongue presses against the tip. “Please. I want you.”

Mark moves down instead, mouthing with more urgency now, pressing his tongue against Jaebeom’s sleep pants, leaving the fabric damp. Jaebeom’s already oozing precum, and he snaps his hips as Mark licks it clean.

“Please.” He says again, pulling harder on Mark’s hair, wishing for more urgency and less clothes and —

Mark pulls away to tug on Jaebeom’s pants, and they maneuver quickly. Mark works on Jaebeom’s pants and Jaebeom yanks off Mark’s shirt, throwing it to the side. He resists the urge to reel Mark in for a kiss, because Mark seems pretty determined to go back down on him.

All the air jars in Jaebeom’s lungs when Mark presses his lips to the very base. Jaebeom pulls again on Mark’s hair and nearly cums when Mark growls. That low, low growl that no human can make, right against the underside of his cock. Then Mark’s tongue follows the vibrations up to the tip with a shameless lick.

“I’m not gonna…”

Mark wraps his lips around the head, and Jaebeom’s torn between lying back and riding the motions, or watching. He gasps when his eyes meet with Mark, who teases the tip without breaking eye contact. He licks Jaebeom back down, slowly, wetly. He stretches his lips around Jaebeom’s dick until saliva drips down between his spread legs.

“I’m really not gonna last.” Jaebeom gives Mark a little tug on his hair.

With one last kiss to the tip, Mark pulls away. He reaches for Jaebeom’s shirt to get him naked, and Jaebeom reaches for Mark’s pants, “You, too.”

Mark presses them chest to chest, curling one hand behind Jaebeom’s head to cradle and hold him in place. He dips down to press a kiss to Jaebeom’s ear and Jaebeom croons, hands flying up to Mark’s body and legs spreading wider.

“Can I come on you?” Mark’s voice is low and gravely and Jaebeom wants to hear his name said. Wants to hear what Mark sounds like when he loses himself.

“Yes, please. Please.” Jaebeom digs his nails into Mark’s shoulder and Mark bites his ear, groaning and pressing their hips together.

Jaebeom nearly sobs, spreading his legs and reaching to grip Mark’s ass. Mark’s body already runs hot, but they’re sweating at the closeness, bodies sheen with sweat and Jaebeom doesn’t care about the droplets of sweat running from his hairline. He holds tight onto Mark and rolls his hips once, and Mark snaps his hips. It’s quick and controlled and rough. There’s so much power in one, swift movement, that Jaebeom’s already dreaming of Mark fucking him. He doesn’t care who tops, he just wants Mark, wants everything he can give and take.

Mark thrusts his hips again and the slide of their erections nearly sends Jaebeom over the edge. He hooks an ankle over Mark’s and grips his ass, urging him on.

Everything’s blurry but Mark. He pants into Jaebeom’s ear and thrusts against Jaebeom, sliding their cocks together as Jaebeom does his best to keep the pace. He already wishes Mark would fill him and fuck him like this, with long, sharp controlled thrusts and his hands on him, hands in his hair, holding onto him as he fucks with vigor.

Mark reaches down to pinch one of Jaebeom’s nipples and the noises that come out of him are a mess, all gibberish and lost. He feels that pull in his belly, he isn’t even embarrassed about how his dick leaks between them, and he takes Mark by the back of his head and guides their lips together.

Mark moans into his mouth, sucks on his lip and bites his bottom lip. As Jaebeom groans, Mark swallows the sounds. Their lips slide and hands become more desperate as Mark’s thrusts become shorter, as he ruts against Jaebeom and grunts into his mouth and Jaebeom’s eyes roll into the back of his head, his mouth falling open and head rolling back and he doesn’t care that Mark’s on his elbows now, hovering and thrusting with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth parted just slightly.

They both come and Jaebeom arches as he does, spreading his legs until he’s blissed out.

They’ve spent three days lying in this bed but Jaebeom wouldn’t complain if they stayed longer. He’s spent, and relaxes with Mark lying atop of him, curled against his chest. He doesn’t care about the mess between them or the fact that they’re going to have to explain this.

This… whatever this is.

Jaebeom just humped his best friend like an animal in heat— wait, Mark probably wouldn’t appreciate that comparison, and has shamelessly revealed how much he’s wanted this.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, Jaebeom dreads what happens next.

Neither of them say anything for a while. Jaebeom almost wonders if Mark fell asleep. Or, maybe, Jaebeom will wake up fully dressed with Mark snoozing at his side, totally oblivious to the dream Jaebeom had just had, and then they’d go back to normal.

But he’s not waking up.

Jaebeom doesn’t know how to handle this. Shit. He’s gotta handle this. He takes a deep breath, trying to stall out his mind and calm himself down but Mark lifts himself to rest his weight on his forearms, and he’s gazing down at at the man underneath him. His honey eyes search Jaebeom’s face, his lips slightly parted as he breathes in deeply, tired and worn out and Jaebeom tries to shove down the feeling of wanting to get him panting again.

Mark slowly pushes away, slides off Jaebeom and kneels on the bed, pulling the covers to cover himself up. His stomach glistens, covered in their spunk.

“Jaebeom…”

“Yeah?” His chest heaves with a breath, and he’s sitting up.

“I’m…” Mark breathes in, shaky now, his hands clenching the blankets. “I’m so sorry.”

_Sorry?_

“There’s no… no. Don’t be sorry.” Jaebeom holds his hands out, careful with his movements. Mark looks pretty upset, with his eyes wide, the red gone, and his lower lip quivering. His shoulders are tense and hunched.

“I just… you’ve smelled... “ He blinks, his throat tightening as he straightens up. His mouth falls open, but he can’t think of an excuse.

“You said I smelled like Jinyoung.” Jaebeom tries to remember what he’s read of werewolves and he hears Jinyoung’s voice from a few days ago, you two reek of each other and he wonders what this all means. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Mark breathes in through his nose, then doesn’t seem to breathe back out. “I know you’re not stupid.” Mark knows Jaebeom understands the implication. He does, but has a hard time grasping it.

Jaebeom can’t help it when he lets out a little laugh. “Jinyoung said I smell claimed.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Maybe he’s feeling light now, slowly accepting his feelings as Mark slowly edges out his own.

Jaebeom pulls the blanket to cover his lower half, then inches forward. He’s grinning, he can feel it stretch stupidly across his face and he’s closing the distance, leaning forward, getting right in Mark’s space.

Mark’s searching his gaze, tucking his lower lip under his row of pretty teeth, and once they’re close enough that their noses brush, he reaches up to curl his fingers into Jaebeom’s black hair.

“Now you understand why I never left.” Mark says, which sounds like something Jaebeom would say in place of how he truly feels, and then Jaebeom leans forward to kiss him.

Jaebeom feels it with the first, full press of their lips. Happiness, belonging and acceptance. They take this so slow, all the urgency of before is totally gone. They kiss once, twice, and hum against the press of their mouths, sliding their lips together in one passionate kiss after another. Jaebeom leans in to get closer, for a harder press, as nothing but bliss bubbles up under his skin.

He’s been pining for years now — _years_ — telling himself this isn’t possible. This would never happen. He’d tell himself that werewolves can’t be gay, that Mark stuck with him for companionship, or that kissing Mark would be suffocating since he runs too hot. But nothing feels better than Mark’s lips, the way his kisses are sweet and they smile against each other’s mouths, finding different ways that they fit together.

There’s no need to press forward, they kiss until they’re breathless, until Jaebeom’s buzzing under his skin and his heart feels so full, so lighthearted and content.

“I can’t believe…” Jaebeom hums as Mark speaks, but kisses him anyway. “It took a car crash…” Jaebeom can’t stop kissing him. “To get us here…”

“I can’t believe you never noticed how I feel about you.”

Mark grins so widely that Jaebeom can’t kiss him properly. So he settles for the corner of his mouth, unable to keep away, basking in the hazy feeling that kissing Mark gives him. “I can’t believe you never noticed.” Mark’s nails scratch the back of Jaebeom’s neck. That feels good. “You were sixteen when I imprinted on you.”

Jaebeom rips away, dizzy with conflicting feelings. “What?”

“What, what?” Mark looks like he’s about to backtrack, his hand falling from the back of Jaebeom’s neck to his shoulder.

“I was sixteen? That was twelve years ago.”

Mark blinks at him.

“Twelve.” Jaebeom’s head spubs. “You’ve been…” He thinks of Jinyoung’s words the other night, of courting. “You’ve been… courting…” He’s not sure if that’s even the right word, since it’s not really a typical human word, but he’s so shocked because twelve years is such a long time— “ _Twelve_ years.”

“I’m a hundred and forty-three years old. Twelve years is nothing.”

It’s Jaebeom’s turn to blink at him.

“I was gonna wait even longer.”

“But. For, why?” Jaebeom’s still trying to pull together the pieces.

“You’re… young. Do you know how long my brother made fun of me for? Even my mom was kind of upset when I imprinted.”

“How did I not know?”

“Because you’re not a werewolf?” Mark shrugs. “Everyone else was able to tell.”

Jaebeom flops back in the back, reaching to pull Mark to come lie in his arms. But Mark laughs and swats him away.

“We should shower before the others get back.”

They’ve never showered together before. Jaebeom aims to kiss Mark as much as possible under the warm water.

Jinyoung waves his hand in front of his face, looking like he won a gold medal. “Wow, now you _really_ smell claimed.”

The rest of the pack looks surprised, and even when Bambam catches on, he lowers his head with a shake and leads Yugyeom to the couch.

Mark blushes and Jaebeom ducks, pressing his face into Mark’s neck and blocking out the way the group coos at them.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Jaebeom itches to touch Mark more, to explore this blossoming relationship between them. But there’s still a pack of vampires they need to find, a dead girl they need to report. There are more important things than Jaebeom’s _feelings_.

But they do hover a little closer to each other, reach for each other’s hands, or when Jaebeom huddles closer to Mark to feel his warmth in the cold, maybe Mark’s hand will wrap around his waist. Or settle on his hip, and he’ll press their foreheads together, kiss if no one’s looking.

After a few days they decide they’re good to get back out there, solve whatever’s going on, and run.

In the center of town, there’s a cute little green. It’s not very big, just a few benches scattered around pathways weaving through trees, and a fountain in the middle. By the fountain is a bulletin board. Jaebeom visits it late at night, shivering in the cold. Youngjae stands close enough that his body heat will tickle along the back of Jaebeom’s neck, but doesn’t get any closer in case of touching, in case his scent carries over. Jaebeom knows that’s not allowed. Not that touching isn’t allowed, but something about scents. He doesn’t quite get it, obviously, since he’s human, but he knows it’s not necessarily a matter of Mark owning him, or that he belongs to Mark, since Mark hadn’t even batted an eyelash when Youngjae offered accompanying Jaebeom, but there’s still something there. He thinks it as the equivalent to a promise ring, or, in mated cases, like a wedding ring. Letting another werewolf get their scent on him would be like letting someone take off his wedding band, or something.

Him standing in the town center at nearly two in the morning while thinking of Mark is a little pathetic.

He turns his attention back to the board, shining his flashlight to get a better view of the bulletins. There’s a tag sale from two weeks ago, a new coffee shop opening up, and some hand sketches of a ‘group of outsiders’ that’s on poster paper stamped with Buckland’s Police Department logo.

“My forhead isn’t that big!” Youngjae points to the drawing of himself, and Jaebeom laughs at how offended he is. “This is ridiculous.”

Snow crunches under their feet as they move away from the fountain, meeting up with Jackson, Suzy and Mark outside the fences. Mark immediately moves to wrap his arms around Jaebeom from behind, burying his face between his shoulder blades.

The public scenting makes Jaebeom both embarrassed and flattered. He shoves Mark away, and contains his guilt when he sees Mark’s pout, opting to shove his whole hand in Mark’s face instead of kiss it away. Mark’s grinning at him when he pulls away, immediately shoving his hand in his pocket for warmth.

“God. They’re so— ugh, _cute_.” Jackson says it like he means it, like his heart is about to burst, and he stumbles back as Youngjae and Suzy laugh at his antics.

“Jinyoung says there’s an building we missed, it’s way behind the library, up in the hills, that used to be the town’s middle school. Half of it burned down a few weeks ago.” Suzy says, pulling out her phone with a photo of the town’s map. It’s from old archives Jaebom found in the library.

“It’s supposed to be up for demolition soon, and then they’re gonna rebuild it.” Jackson explains. Suzy hands him the phone, and he swipes to another photo of the school when it stood in one piece. “So, I guess the plan was to start demolition this week, but because of the snow they pushed it back. Parts of the school are still intact, and I’m thinking that’d be a great place to hole up a bunch of teenagers, _or_ for a bunch of teenagers to hang out at since you can get inside the building. And — “ He swipes the screen with a flourish, presenting a picture of a huge shed. “There’s this thing in the back. It’s the sport’s shed, and it’s, like, as big as a house.”

Buckland is a rather small town without much of a business district. The stores are mostly mom and pop shops, with a few taller buildings that resemble offices, but are insignificant in comparison to the skyscrapers of New York or Chicago. They don’t need to walk for long before they’re out of the business district and back in residential area, walking past houses that look like mini mansions. It reminds Jaebeom a lot of where he grew up; an old town with deep history.

In the tiny parking lot of a brick-oven pizza place that’s perfectly located in the sleeping neighborhood, idles a truck. Jaebeom’s (stolen) truck had ended up crushed during the accident, and Yugyeom drove into town with a hatchback, so Jaebeom doesn’t ask where the pick-up came from. He parts from Mark with a quick squeeze of his wrist, and climbs into the front seat with Yugyeom and Bambam.

The front seat is the only seat in the cramped cabin, so the werewolves climb in the bed.

Through town and up some of the windiest hills Jaebeom’s ever had to drive up, is where the burned down middle school should be. Jaebeom has to trade places with Yugyeom to drive, since he’s more accustomed to the snow, but halfway up an unrelenting curve the tires get stuck. 4x4 isn’t helping, and the tires spin, kicking up snow until Jaebeom can smell burning rubber.

“What a shitty spot for a school.” Bambam mumbles as he pulls a beanie over his ears. His hair sticks out in all corners, and he steps to the side as Mark grabs the car by the hitch and pulls it off the road into the trees. Just in case.

“They must get so many snow days.” Jia says, pulling on a hoodie and zipping it up.

 _If a werewolf is feeling the chill_ , Jaebeom thinks bitterly, _how the fuck am I supposed to handle this?_

Sherpa lines his jacket over all the layers he wears, but it’s still numbingly cold. Jaebeom accepts a scarf from Jinyoung and wraps it around his face, covering his nose and pulling his hood up. There’s a faint, woodsy scent to the scarf. Mark moves closer to him and eyes the fabric as if it offended him.

Perhaps it’s Jinyoung’s scent. It smells a lot like the bed they shared with the other werewolf.

From the corner of his eye, Jaebeom catches the way Yugyeom and Bambam watch them, and the way Youngjae rolls his eyes. Even Jackson’s brow is furrowed, and he hooks his elbow with Jinyoung’s, tugging him forward.

Yeah, it has to be Jinyoung’s scent that upsets everyone. Jaebeom’s too cold to care.

The climb up the hill is exhausting, but the scarf and Mark’s too-close hovering— they keep bumping elbows, or shoulders, or hips, or the amount of times Mark’s stepped on the back of Jaebeom’s boot is getting pretty aggravating. He can’t help it when he snaps, his, “Ease off,” comes muffled but venomous through the scarf. Mark stiffens and his gaze darkens. Suzy whips her head back, eyes steady on Mark for a moment and Jaebeom can’t figure out her look. She only turns away when Youngjae reaches to wrap an arm around her waist and settle on her hip, urging her to continue on.

By the time they reach the top of the hill, they have to lift their knees to trudge through the snow. Thankfully, they’re almost at the school. It comes into view.

It’s nothing but an old building, a whole wing burned down. The rest of the school, like the main lobby and the wings to the left, are rather untouched. As they get in, the walls crumble and the ground appears scorched, but there’s more than enough building left for a clan to come in and use the space.

Jaebeom can’t smell what the others can, but the way the rest of the group tenses up, and Bambam belatedly, means they’re onto something. Yugyeom looks pretty lost, doing his best to cover up his fear. He hadn’t been shivering on the walk up. Bambam moves closer to him, pushes their shoulders again, and Jaebeom can’t help it when he moves in to be within arm’s reach. Just in case. He gives Bambam a small nod when their gazes lock.

“We’ll split up.” Jackson says. “There are three wings; Mark, Jaebeom, and Jia you guys take one. Yugyeom, Bambam, and Youngjae will take another. I’ll go with Jinyoung and Suzy.”

“I’m going with Yugyeom.”

Jackson spins to look at him, and Jaebeom ignores the way Mark looks affronted.

“I can’t risk two humans in one group.”

There’s the alpha.

Jaebeom might not be as affected by the tone and aura that Jackson gives off, but he can feel something in the air, and he can feel something in Jackson’s gaze that almost makes him want to give in to the alpha’s plan.

But that’s what sets Jaebeom so far apart from the rest. He’s not a werewolf. He’s not a vampire. He’s nothing but an ordinary human who’s gone through too much training and too much shit to just roll over. He knows the rules, he once upon a time lived harmoniously with the Tuan pack— albeit after a few transgressions and behaviors he learned the hard way, were disrespectful— but here, he’s a hunter. And Yugyeom’s a human who’s in too deep. And Jaebeom sticks up for his own.

“I can hold my own against a vampire.” Bambam makes a small noise at that, and Jaebeom can’t explain the way it grips his heart. “I’ve fought plenty of vampires. I’ll be fine.”

“Hyung…” Yugyeom stares at Jaebeom with wide eyes. Jaebeom hasn’t heard that term since before his mother died, when they went to go visit family back in Korea. It raises something even more brotherly inside Jaebeom. He thinks of his mom, and his family, and longing burns deeply in his heart. Longing for something he’ll never get back.

But Jackson turns his gaze to Mark, and that sets a little spark of rage in Jaebeom’s chest. He doesn’t need a werewolf to protect him against some vampires. He doesn’t need Mark’s permission.

“Yeah,” Mark’s voice sounds soft, fearful. “Jaebeom can hold his own.”

They take the first wing. It’s cold, but not as harsh with the walls protecting them from the wind. The walls become less burned as they walk, and lockers go from melted, to damaged, to unscathed. It’s so dark though, and Jaebeom casts his flashlight down, looking for footprints.

After a few steps he angled upwards, too, because he’s been doing this long enough to know that sometimes things don’t just walk on the floor.

Yugyeom’s flashlight beam follows his and it lightens the weight dampening Jaebeom’s mood. He falls back a step and lets his hand hover near Yugyeom’s wrist. Just in case. Bambam falls a few steps behind.

They peer into each room as they go by, and everything seems to check out. The desks may be pushed and not perfect, but they line up in rows. Books are piled up on shelves, the teachers desks are neat. The fire took place with no one in the building.

“What do you know about vampires?” Jaebeom looks to Yugyeom.

“Uh,” Yugyeom glances over his shoulder at his friend. “So,” Yugyeom whispers as they come together at the end of the hall. There’s a staircase leading downstairs. It’s a swampy darkness that Jaebeom needs to make sure Yugyeom’s at least a little prepared for whatever might be waiting for them. “So, uh, I know…” Bambam puts a gloved hand on his lower back, but doesn’t usher him forward. His hand sits there. Yugyeom seems to breathe a little easier. “I know that vampires typically move in clans or families, and that they’re— you’re?” He glances back at Bambam again, whose expression sets like stone. “Uh, that the sunlight won’t kill them, or turn them to stone, but it is irritating. And that vampires are pretty resilient, and thick-skinned and not easily harmed like us,” he glances up at Jaebeom, as if questioning is own statement.

“Yeah,” Jaebeom smiles openly at him. “Just a regular human.”

“I know that a bite only turns you if it’s meant to turn you. Like, venom has to be released. Venom?” He looks back at the vampire. “Is it venom?”

Bambam shrugs. “Close enough. I think what Jaebeom’s asking, though, is do you know how to kill a vampire?”

Yugyeom swallows thickly. Jaebeom waits for an answer. He swears he can hear Yugyeom’s heartbeat echoing off the walls and for a second lets his gaze flicker to Bambam. There’s no hunger in his eyes. He looks at Yugyeom with a softness that makes him look… human. Or anything other than a blood-hungry monster. Bambam’s so irregular compared to what Jaebeom’s faced— to what Jaebeom’s faced for years— that he forgets that Bambam is one of them. He’d forgotten it long enough to publicly announce to a group of werewolves (albeit himself, as well, ) that he felt comfortable enough with Bambam to venture off into the darkness and uncertainty, where a vampire could be waiting to kill them. How does Jaebeom know that Bambam would betray his own kind and protect him and Yugyeom?

Bambam has done nothing but prove himself, which is why Jaebeom only has these thoughts now when it’s too late, but he feels no need to amend the situation or his decision. He stands by it.

Besides, the way he regards Yugyeom almost makes Jaebeom think he has feelings for the human.

Jaebeom blinks, looking back over and Bambam, watching the way Bambam drops his hand to wrap around Yugyeom’s wrist, and move closer to assure him it’s okay. He thinks back to all the moments where Bambam treated Yugyeom with so much genuine kindness; all those moments where Jaebeom forgot that he’s a vampire, and something just slides right into place.

Bambam likes Yugyeom.

Not in a creepy vampire way. Not in a way that makes Yugyeom prey. But in a sincere, adoring, type of way.

Jaebeom shouldn’t be having an epiphany here, in a half-burned down building looking for vampires, where his life is on the line.

But still he can’t help the small, “Woah,” when he realises the gravity of Bambam’s feelings. He didn’t know vampires felt genuine love. This is… new. It’s a lot to take in. It goes against everything Jaebeom’s ever known, or read, or faced.

The two face him now, and he feels a little embarrassed, clearing his throat as an apology. “What do you have for weapons?”

“A stake made of oak.” Yugyeom pulls one from his pocket. He should have at least two, but one is better than none.

Jaebeom has two, so, he hands one over. “Aspen and ash usually work, too. This one is made of ash.” He doesn’t miss the way Bambam’s eyebrows hike up behind his bangs. “And you want a knife made of iron, to cut off their heads.”

“Place the head as far away from the body until you can burn it.” Bambam says. Even in the darkness, the way pain flashes through his grey eyes is bright.

Yugyeom pulls his wide shoulders back, heightening his apperance. The way he nods and holds the weapons is uncomfortable. He adjusts himself, carries the stake and puts the knife in his holster. He already has one, Jaebeom knows Bambam isn’t dumb enough to send him out without protection of his own, but Jaebeom can hold his own a lot better than Yugyeom can. He’s so new to this that he reaches out to hold onto the back of Jaebeom’s jacket as they make their way down the stairs.

At first there’s nothing. The only peek they get to the outside are the doors at the end of the hall. But it’s long and dark and damp and freezing, and Jaebeom’s flashing the light into the corners, opposite Yugyeom’s to keep as much of the hallway illuminated at one time.

Whatever they can’t see, Bambam can.

Jaebeom knows they’re in danger not because he sees something, but because Bambam shouts.

Jaebeom slips to the floor and rushes to get up.

They’re on unfair grounds; he and Yugyeom can’t see in the dark. He can’t smell where there’s another body, and he hears Yugyeom’s small, “Hyung…” besides him.

Jaebeom’s flashlight illuminates a face, void eyes staring at him from underneath the stairwell. Jaebeom shoves Yugyeom back and holds his arms out to protect.

They were wrong. That’s not a vampire.

“Ghouls.” Bambam hisses, “ _Fuck_.”

The ghoul in the corner doesn’t move. Jaebeom tries to keep an eye on it, on it’s unblinking, black, pitless eyes. He tries to hear where Bambam and some other ghouls are, wincing as someone gets shoved into a locker. The metal bends, but Jaebeom keeps his eyes trained on the ghoul under the stairwell.

Its' skin is white, translucent, red and blue veins crawling under its’ skin. Its' head stays still, lolled to the side. Jaebeom can’t tell where it’s looking. It sits. Static. As Jaebeom takes a step back, another step back, back to back with Yugyeom.

It’s shoulders shift forward.

Jaebeom holds the stake in his hands tighter. His mind rushes and he tries to keep calm, there can’t be just two, there has to be another one.

The creature bolts.

It’s there, hiding underneath the stairwell.

And then it’s here.

Jaebeom’s knows how to fight a ghoul, except he doesn’t have the right weapons. He blinks, and it’s in his face, teeth jagged and sharp, the hollow eyes deep and dead. Purple and green circle its’ eyes like bruises and it’s hand is so cold, so cold through the layers of Jaebeom’s clothing.

He hears the scream too late, the loud, shrill cry of the undead shattering through his defenses. He swipes and falls back, breaking physical contact with Yugyeom and in the same moment he looks back, blinking into the darkness, the ghoul is on him again. The light shines against its’ teeth and gets lost in the pit of its’ throat.

Jaebeom loses his flashlight trying to hold off freezing hands, and only catches glimpses of the creatures bruised face. It screams again, a high pitched gurgle from the back of its’ throat and Jaebeom fights against loose skin and long nails and pushes the ghoul off with his feet, reaching for his lost stake, his hands digging against the tiles and finally reaching for the wood. It won’t kill it, but it’ll disarm the creature.

There’s a cry, he doesn’t know where it comes from, it echoes down the hall, it skitters against the flooring and Jaebeom trips over it again, hands on his neck and hair brushing over his face and he can’t see a damn thing. Yugyeom’s flashlight is pointed in another direction and Jaebeom lost his on the fall down and it’s out. A hand wraps around his ankle and yanks him, sliding him against the tile and pulling him further into the darkness and he thrashes, reaching for anything that’ll hold him, that’ll keep him from being dragged, that’ll give him mercy, but there’s nothing, and he needs to _keep their teeth off me, keep their teeth_ —

“Yugyeom!” His own voice too harsh for his own ringing ears.

A light shines in his direction and poised over him, a hand with long, bony fingers wrapped around his ankle, is the ghoul Jaebeom has been fighting off. It moves so sharply, each movement quick and defined and there’s no thought behind the unnatural, jerky movements. It unhinges its’ jaw with a crack and curves nearly in half, the bones of its’ spine poking through the flimsy shirt it's’ wearing.

The other hand whips out and holds Jaebeom by his knee. He knows they don’t think, but he can see what’s coming next, and how the creature aims it’s slack jaw at his leg.

Jaebeom lunges at it, the darkness of its’ eyes darker than the corners of the hallway, darker than his nightmares, and plunges the wood into its’ chest.

The screams ring hollow and it fumbles, bony hands clawing at the tiles.

The way to kill a ghoul is—

Its' head cracks as Bambam swings at it with a locker door.

— Smashing it’s head.

Jaebeom slips out from its’ dying grasp, as screams echo down the hall and bone splinters under metal.

Bambam reaches for the ghoul by the hair, standing with two mangled heads in his hands and blood dripping from his chin and caked between his fingers. His clothes are rumpled, a gash running down his arm. “It makes me kind of nervous that our friends didn’t come running. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

“Yeah, that was…” Jaebeom grapples for his flashlight and stands, his legs wobbly the first few steps, but he finds Yugyeom leaning against the lockers, a hand on his heart. “Are you okay?”

All color has drained of Yugyeom’s face and his hands tremble. But he still manages a quiet, “Yeah,” And he turns Yugyeom away from the bodies, leading him to step around the dead creature by the stairwell. He pretends he doesn’t hear the thump of Bambam throwing the bodies to the floor. They’ll probably burn the bodies, just in case, to hide the evidence.

Bambam moves in front of them and leads them to another hall where Jackson and Jinyoung work on a fire, and Suzy waiting for them at the end of the hall. She rushes to check on them, seems satisfied with how unharmed the other two seem, and her hands move and cup Yugyeom’s face.

“Are you alright?” She knows the answer, but still, Yugyeom nods.

Jinyoung glances at them. “Do you wanna bring the bodies here?”

Yugyeom stays with Suzy, leaning against the wall.

Jaebeom heads back with Bambam, flashing his light down the stairs. “Thanks for the save.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Well, thanks, anyway. I couldn’t see a thing.”

“Sorry I didn’t catch on sooner. Ghouls barely have a scent. I didn’t pick up on it until too late.”

“It wasn’t too late if Yugyeom and I are still here.”

He thinks Bambam smiles at him. He only says something after they climb back up the stairs. “You’ve killed a lot of vampires?”

The body in Jaebeom’s arms is cold, but the remnants of a last meal drips from it’s neck. “Yeah. That was why I started.”

Bambam glances over his shoulder. “To kill vampires.”

Jaebeom looks at Bambam’s side profile. He looks _alive_. "They killed my mom and dad."

"Oh," Bambam sounds so soft, deeply sincere. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

“So we were totally wrong about the vampires…” Jackson frowns at the fire.

Suzy gives Bambam a little pat and mumbles, “Sorry.”

The gang looks at Bambam, whose cheeks look reddened by the fire. Jaebeom has to remind himself, _vampire_.

The heat of the blazing fire melts numbness from Jaebeom’s toes and fingers, but dries the skin on his face until it feels like the tip of his nose is going to burn off. He makes no move to step away, though, lifting his gaze to the star-spotted sky. It reminds him how endless the universe is, and how he’s nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

“They say it’s the souls of our ancestors up there.” Jinyoung says, only a few feet behind the human. Jaebeom’s so caught up in the life of the flame, in the crackle of life and passion, that he hadn’t noticed the shift around him. In fairness, though, Jinyoung’s a supernatural creature, and can probably go undetected even if Jaebeom had been on his toes. The way Mark can sneak around a hotel room, or in the dead of the night through the woods, is purely werewolf.

“Isn’t that from The Lion King?”

Jinyoung shrugs, keeping his gaze up at the sky. “I don’t know what that is.”

They’re burning ghouls in this fire, but Jaebeom’s much, much more concerned with— “It’s a classic. How can you not know The Lion King?”

“You can’t tell me about classics when I lived in France during the Lumière brothers very first film screenings.”

Jaebeom looks away from the stars. “The who brothers?”

“Auguste and Louis Lumière.” Jinyoung’s twisted little smirk looks much more predatory in the shadows of the fire.

“Like, the candlestick? Beauty and the Beast?.”

That smirk turns into a full smile, and Jinyoung laughs at a joke Jaebeom’s not getting. “Close enough. Hey, Mark? Where were you during the 1890’s?”

Mark stands only a few feet away from them. “Still in Taiwan.”

“Oh please.” Jia rolls her eyes. “Jinyoung you were actually like, six years old, then.”

“Yeah but…” Poor Yugyeom looks so troubled, trying to wrap his head around everything that happened. “The fact that you were _alive_ … at all.”

“Anyone think there are more ghouls hiding around here?” Jackson gets them back on track with a booming voice, pulling everyone’s focus.

“Nah,” Mark says, no one argues. They would've been attacked by now.

“We should see if those missing teens are around.” Bambam says, his hand running across the expanse of Yugyeom’s shoulders, as if giving him something to focus on. To help his breathing. “And I think we got everyone, because if there were any other ghouls left, Yugyeom and Jaebeom would be enough to lure the bitches out.”

Jinyoung moves away from his alpha, nodding towards the shed. “We’re still down four kids.”

Mark’s been awfully quiet, his eyes following Jaebeom as he moved around the fire, spoke with Jinyoung, and he moves closer to Jaebeom when they move out of the wing and back into the cold. Jaebeom relies on Mark in situations like these, when his own body heat isn’t enough to protect him from the winter, but he’s still uneasy about Jackson asking for Mark’s permission to let him set off on his own group. He’s still seething that Mark can’t handle him borrowing a scarf when it’s below zero out. There’s a power struggle that sets him off.

The shed doors open easily with Jackson dragging them open. The smell of waste and decay waft out like a thick cloud.

“I think we found the missing kids.” Bambam brings a hand to his noise and Yugyeom steps aside to retch into the snow. Jaebeom’s own gag reflex responds unfavorably, the sounds of Yugyeom spitting up his dinner only urging the reflex. When Mark’s hand comes to settle on his shoulders while he’s hunched over vomiting, he can’t help the way he reaches out blindly, closing his eyes and trying to breathe. Mark’s hand closes around his extended one. He offers one glove to Yugyeom as something to wipe his mouth with, and then Mark comes over to dab at Jaebeom’s lips.

“Are you okay?”

Mark’s hands come up to remove Jaebeom’s beanie, pushing his hair back and pulling the hat right back over his head. He flops forward, his stomach empty and his chest null and his head still spinning, and drops his head to Mark’s shoulder. His problems seem less significant.

“I’m sorry.”

“We can talk about that later.” Mark responds, pulling away. His honey eyes are beautiful. “Are you okay?”

It’s easier to breathe, now, that the stench thins out and disperses. “Yeah.”

Jaebeom peers into the shed, and catches sight of bugs skittering across the floor, and a broken finger, and the moonlight angles in just right to reflect against the dullness of a young boy’s dead, blue eyes.

The ghouls had been attacking kids as they hung out and feeding on them, dumping the bodies when there was nothing but bone left.

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Jaebeom double checked the grocery list his mother texted him one last time before dumping his purchase on the counter. He grabbed a chocolate bar from the shelves. Then one more. He had a job now, and if he decided to use his own cash to buy something extra for Mark, well, it’s his own money. And Mark was supposed to return from some family werewolf thing later that evening, Jaebeom wanted something to give him.

Maybe crushing on a werewolf felt weird. But Jaebeom decided; it was fine. He’d deal. He and Mark planned on going to college together in the fall. They’d gone to advising together, planned their schedule to overlap as much as possible, the adviser frowning at them the entire time. As long as their lives continued to overlap, Jaebeom was happy. As long as they could talk about the future, about getting jobs and splitting rent together when they got older, Jaebeom could deal. He had done some reading about imprinting and mates and closed the book mid-passage, fighting down the urge to cry when he realized he and Mark could never be together. All his mother’s support, for what? Did she not know? Did she not know werewolves imprinted on their mates? Jaebeom couldn’t do that.

If it weren’t so hot out, Jaebeom would’ve walked slower and enjoyed the sun. But he high-tailed it home, eager to get into the a/c and eat the naengmyeon he spent the past week begging his mother to make.

The window a/c unit hummed, working overtime to cool off the house, but the temperature difference between inside and outside was just enough to feel good against Jaebeom’s sticky skin. He fanned himself with the letters from the mailbox and went to the kitchen, putting the groceries on the counter.

“Mom?”

The stove wasn’t on. A pot full of water sat on the counter, the noodles still in the packaging on the table. Jaebeom pushes the refrigerator door closed.

“Mom!” He yelled, turning towards the stairwell. “Hey! Mom?”

He heard her footsteps, so Jaebeom turned towards the stove, clicking on the burner. “I got the groceries. Will dinner be ready in an hour? Mark should be back and I wanted to invite him over. Is that okay?” He heard a shuffling from up the stairs. Jaebeom put the pot on the burner, turning to face the stairwell. “Well, I might have _already_ invited him.”

Lara came down the stairs, quiet, slowly, with unsure footing, Jaebeom turned to open the noodles, trying to separate a good enough amount for the three of them, but then again, “Mark eats a lot. Can we make the whole —”

That’s not —

A man Jaebeom didn’t recognize stood in the doorway. A tall, bulky man, with a lazy gaze, grey eyes, red lips, a jacket and jeans. He moved sharply. Differently.

“Who are you?”

The man took a step forward, eyes glazed, dull and lifeless. He reached out, hand caked in blood. Jaebeom could see the blood splatters on his dark shirt.

“Mom?” Jaebeom tried again, louder than before, his voice cracking. Panic rose in his throat, he stepped backwards, eyes fixed on the approaching man. “Mom?!”

The man said something in a language Jaebeom didn’t understand, low and careful. Jaebeom slid around the counter, the front door appearing around the corner from the corner of his eye. He could run. The Tuan’s lived right down the street, they should be back soon, they should be back any minute.

Jaebeom glanced up at the staircase, and tried, one last time in a loud voice, “Mom!”

Lara was home. She had set up the stove, put water in the pot, she was getting dinner ready.

Lara was home alone, and Jaebeom knew she was still upstairs somewhere.

Jaebeom didn't know anything about these creatures, he didn’t know what faced him, trailing leisurely, as if contemplating if Jaebeom would be worth it, too; worth whatever had been done to Lara.

He wanted to run upstairs and find her, but Jaebeom wouldn’t know what to do. He sucked back a breath, hiccupped around his tears. He faced the creature, the man with the grey eyes, and felt the feeling go in his legs before adrenaline kicked in, loud and pulsing through his ears, ready for him to run.

The door swung open, Jaebeom felt the summer heat lick at the back of his neck, the rush of air as Mark moved in front of him. “Jae?!” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide with concern.

Jaebeom wished he felt something other than the lump in his throat.

He stepped back, one, two, then three. He stumbled for the front door, gaze shifting back to the staircase. He mother, upstairs. His mother, already gone.

A snarl ripped from Mark’s throat, and Jaebeom sprinted for the stairs, up two at a time, tumbling over the top one when he tried for three, stumbling and finding Lara, slumped against the wall, blood splattered, still wet and trailing against the wall she leaned against.

Jaebeom tried to breathe, tried to breathe in, tried to breathe out, tried to make a noise or say her name. He hand was still warm, but her chest hollow, eyes closed. Despite the blood and the gash on her cheek ripped open, her expression looked relaxed. Jaebeom gripped her arm, fell against her shoulder, and a sob shuddered through his body. 

They held the funeral a week later. The Tuan’s contacted someone outside of town to clean Lara, stitch the wound closed, and clean the blood out of her hair.

It was so hot that day. Jaebeom boiled in his suit jacket. His father’s suit jacket.

The priest said wonderful things about her, not that there’d been anything bad to tell. Jaebeom doesn’t remember what he himself said. It’d been short, sweet, and he held the stake found at her feet. She’d put up a fight against the vampire. It had to of been a sneak attack. Mark said the vampire had been wounded already, stumbling as Mark fought him, found a knife in the kitchen to kill the vampire with. They burned him in the firepit in the backyard while Ray took care of speaking to the police.

There were so many faces Jaebeom didn’t recognize in the crowd, so many people that traveled in from other states, people with red eyes, werewolves, a guy with horns in the way back. Things that he would’ve normally freaked out about, if his own personal shock hadn’t been still in full effect for the funeral.

Jaebeom stayed behind while they covered her up, buried her next to his father.

“How’d you really die?” Jaebeom asked the headstone, hours later. It was still too hot. “Did you go out fighting, like mom?” He ran his fingers over the rounded side of the headstone. He’d done this a thousand times before. He frequented it with his mom.

“Hey,”

Jaebeom turned to Mark, who gave him a little smile.

“I brought you dinner.”

Jaebeom couldn’t even argue that he wasn’t hungry. Mark gave him the chicken skewers, and they’re just enough to calm the way Jaebeom’s stomach rolled.

“Are you coming home?”

 _Home_. The Tuan’s house.

Jaebeom stood up, silently promised his parents he’d be back tomorrow. He’d be back tomorrow and he’ll tell them about the hunts he’ll read in their diary, he’ll tell them about the demons he read about, and when he gets to it, he’ll them about the training he does with the Tuan’s, the way they accept him.

(One day in the future he’ll go back with his own pack; Jackson, Jinyoung, Jia, Suzy, Youngjae, Yugyeom and Bambam, holding Mark’s hand and he'll tell them, even though they wanted to protect him from this life, it’s okay. He’s okay. He hopes they found peace. In an odd sort of way, he has, too. He's found love. He's found a rhythm of his own, out there, protecting people.

He's okay.)

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

“We still have to worry about the hunters.” Mark says from the drivers seat, wearing nothing but a tee-shirt and jeans as if it weren’t snowing outside. They’re following Jackson’s sedan down windy roads, Yugyeom’s hatchback following them. The goal is Canada, for a little while. Apparently Jackson has a house up there. Jaebeom still doesn’t know where his trust lies.

“I think if they were following us, at least one of the six wolves would’ve figured it out by now.”

Mark hums in response. “I guess,”

Things have been short and stunted between the two of them. Not that they’ve had time to deal with it, anyway. It’s only been a few hours since they found the bodies, packed up the motel room and headed out. Once they’re safely out of the area, someone will call and leave an anonymous tip about the teenagers.

“We still have to worry about this.” Jaebeom gestures between them. He’s currently sitting sideways in the front bench, resting against the door. No matter how uncomfortable it is, with the door handle pressing into a bruise in his lower back.

“I’m not sure —”

“You said you imprinted on me. And even though I’ve been in love with you since, like, forever —”

“Your forever isn’t the same as mine.”

Jaebeom swallows the wad of anxiety in his throat. He just said love, and he knows Mark heard it, he knows that Mark can hear the jackhammering of his heart, and the way the blood rushes through his body and he knows Mark can smell the sweat on the palms of his hands, on the backs of his knees.

“That’s not the point.”

“I don’t want to rush anything. I hadn’t even planned on telling you I imprinted, even though everyone else figured it out. Including Bambam. But I could smell Jinyoung all over you, and it muted our mixed scents and it made me crazy. It brought out this, like, primal urge that I’d spent years trying to bury.”

Apples and honey and spice.

“So, all these years of you and I traveling together, means what?”

Mark’s gaze shifts for a split second. “That I want to be with you.” He flexes his hand, stretching out his fingers; a nervous tick. “That I love you.”

Jaebeom breathes in, holds his breath. “This whole time I’ve been so scared that you’d find your mate and leave me behind.”

“Surprise.” Mark grumbles, both hands on the wheel now, ten and two. “That’s you.”

“What…” Jaebeom feels kind of stupid asking. “What do I smell like?”

“Spices.” Mark says without missing a beat. Jaebeom brings his forearm to his nose and sniffs. He smells dirt and sweat.

“I don’t smell it.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “ _You_ can’t smell it. I can.”

“So if I started using, like, vanilla scented shampoo, would I smell like vanilla?”

“Uh,” Mark squints. “No? That’s not how it works.”

“I can smell you but can’t smell myself? Unfair.”

“Yeah, my gland—”

“Apples, honey and spice.” Jaebeom responds. “Like the end of summer, when the nights get chillier, but you don’t want the summer to end, not just yet.”

Mark smiles a little, reaches over to give Jaebeom’s thigh a small pinch. “Around the time we met.”

“Yeah,” Jaebeom grins. “The end of summer. We’re like, two seasons. Summer and fall.”

“The spice though, that’s you.”

Jaebeom needs a minute to think about that. The way the sheets smell in the early morning, the way the room smells after a few days of them being in it, the way it smells when they settle together, relax together, the smell that brings him back. His comfort. He’s a part of it.

“That’s us?”

“Yeah.” Mark smiles, sweet. “That’s us.”

“I love you.”

It’s so uncomplicated, like honey, apples and spice.

Mark tangles his fingers with Jaebeom’s, bringing his hands to his lips for a kiss before dropping them in Jaebeom’s lap.

It won’t always be uncomplicated, though. “There are some things I don’t understand. You need to lay off Jinyoung, even a little.”

Mark rolls his eyes, chewing on his lower lip. Jaebeom can stare at the motion, now, unabashed in the way his arousal curls in desire to have Mark’s mouth on him, on having those pretty teeth chew him up.

Wow, all this time on the road has really messed his mind, huh? He's sure Mark won't complain, though.

“Jinyoung does it on purpose. He and Jackson were trying to hold off, but he’s also a huge piece of shit and was using you to get to Jackson, while also getting to me.”

“Hopefully it won’t be so bad now that we don’t have to deal with that. Assuming they finally… talk things through.” Jaebeom traces the shape of Mark’s cheekbones, the pretty slope of his nose. He can’t until they’re somewhere, anywhere, and he can kiss Mark until the burst of happiness in his chest mellows out.

“It’s just… different. It’s different for us, and I know that and I’m sorry. This isn’t a normal relationship, I’m a werewolf and you’re a human, and —”

“I think, all things considered, we’ve worked out pretty well, so far. We’ve been on the road together for eight years, Mark. _Eight_ years, it’s been just you and me.” Jaebeom shifts a little, gives Mark’s hand a squeezes. “I don’t get the mating thing, either. Like, you mark your mate, right? Jinyoung said I smelled claimed? Is that the mixed scents thing? What’s the difference? And —”

“Fuck, slow down. Imprinting is that, like, biological thing.” Mark grumbles something under his breath, cheeks turning red. “Claiming is the scents thing— normally we’d claim each other, but you can’t really do that. The bite is, just, like, uh, a ring. But there’s no divorcing. That’s not a thing. It’s a little deeper, on a more, like, soulmate kind of level? Like, we’ve sealed the deal?”

Jaebeom hides a smile behind the sleeve of his sweater. “Sealed the deal?”

“Listen,” Mark throws him a suffering look. “I don’t understand how humans date any more than you understand how werewolves mate. And high school was an awful experience, I don’t count that experience as real dating advice.” Oh no, here they go talking about high school. As if Jaebeom’s life post-graduation hasn’t been traumatizing enough. “Remember Kelly and Brian? How they got together and broke up, like a thousand times? And like, before and after every fuckin’ home game?”

Jaebeom laughs at that, and remembers how he and Mark used to lean on one another and whisper to each other the rumors that circled around the jock and cheerleader couple. “I used to use that as an excuse to get you to talk about dating, because I had the fattest crush on you and spent months working up the courage to ask you out.”

“I knew. I knew you wanted to ask me on a date at graduation.” Mark laughs, showing all his beautiful teeth, but for only a second. He’s reminded of something, something that haunts him, even though Jaebeom’s moved on and let it go a long, long time ago. “I was so excited to say yes. But then you were putting your face near my scent gland and I… I lost myself. And I’m so —”

“I don’t want to hear it. I’m done talking about it.” The scar of Mark’s claw marks will never go away. Jaebeom doesn’t mind them. Not anymore. They don’t mean much, not when he looks at his other scars, at all the other near death experiences that have left physical wounds on his body.

Mark clears his throat, focusing on the road ahead. “Uh, well. It wasn’t until after you found out, and after you trained, that you learned to control your emotions around me and then I wasn’t sure. I still wanted to court you, though. I still wanted you to be my mate. But I really had no idea how to charm a human. You didn’t like the rabbits. I think flowers are _dumb_.”

Jaebeom laughs at the memory of finding a dead bunny outside his room, laughs at the way he screamed and slammed the door shut. Now he understands why Mark’s little brother made fun of Mark for weeks about his failed dating attempts. Jaebeom didn’t know Mark was trying to date _him_ , of course. Not at the time. A dead animal hardly seemed like an object used in confessions.

Now Mark brings him cooked food, having learned a lesson in humans that day.

“So now have each other,” Jaebeom starts quietly, looking up at the car ahead of theirs. “And... a pack?”

They can work on it. They can work on this. They just confessed their love to each other in the hills of — well, he’s not sure what state they’re in, not even sure if they’re still in the U.S, with the car rumbling beneath them and the snow falling and truthfully, this probably is one of the easiest things they’ll ever do. Considering everything else they face on the daily, that is.

“We’ll see how this goes. They’re gonna help us with the hunters, at least.”

Jaebeom stares ahead, chewing on his lip. “Do you trust them?”

“I do.” Mark responds without reservation.

Then, maybe that eases Jaebeom’s worries, a little.

“So.” Jaebeom’s mind goes elsewhere, past the books he’s read and more towards the experience of living with werewolves. Some aspects he gets, and he can live with. Some, though, “About the mate mark.”

Mark blushes. Like, honest to God turns red. Jaebeom’s only ever seen it a handful of times, usually when he gets upset, and his eyes glow. But now they dim, melted and warm and shy.

“What about it?”

“Do you still do that even though I’m human?”

Mark brings a hand to his face and rubs, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know? I don’t think me taking a chunk out of your shoulder would feel good. You’re not a wolf.”

“Doesn’t sound like the worse thing I’d ever go through.”

“Please don’t.” Mark’s hands slide to the bottom of the wheel, gripping it steadily. “Please don’t say things like that.” His voice is as thin as the layer of snow on the road. Jaebeom shuts up. He shouldn’t make light of things he doesn’t understand.

Jaebeom nods, very slowly, pulling in the thought that he can be a werewolf, too, if Mark were willing to bite him.

“So, _honey_.” Mark teases, and Jaebom definitely tucks his thought away for another day. “What are we doing about these hunters?”

“No, no. You’re honey. I’m…” Jaebeom stops, thinking about it for a second, “I’m _spicy_.”

Mark tries to pull his hand away— “Not happening!” — but Jaebeom just laughs, clinging onto him and leaning over the center to kiss Mark’s shoulder. And bury his face there, where it smells like honey, apples and spice.

“Thank you for not leaving.”

Mark breathes in. “I love you, Jaebeom. I’m not going anywhere.”

They keep driving, up and down windy roads, around sharp bends, towards where the sky touches the Earth, and whatever’s waiting for them out there.

**Author's Note:**

> i couldn't decide what kind of legend i wanted to stick with when writing this, and basically did a shitton of reading on old legends/folklore from across the world. it was really fun!! even though i freaked myself tf out!!  
> see you later!


End file.
